The old market was a city within the city. By noon, every doorway held a story, and every shopkeeper seemed to know which one you had come to hear.
“Not today,” Mara said, though the letter in her pocket had already made the decision for her.
El viejo mercado era una ciudad dentro de la ciudad. Al mediodía, cada portal guardaba una historia y cada comerciante parecía saber cuál habías venido a escuchar.
«Hoy no», dijo Mara, aunque la carta que llevaba en el bolsillo ya había decidido por ella.