By William Mangieri
Copyright 2013 by William Mangieri
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The weekend bazaar existed in a field on the edge of Kennis. It was a year-round fixture of the town – most of the booths were run by townsfolk, and the majority of them didn’t bother taking down their shops during the week, so there was always this village of vacant canopies on the outskirts.
Most sane people thought summer was too hot a time to shop the bazaar, but that didn’t stop Samantha Sanger. She twisted one of her red pigtails as she walked up to old Mr. Wyatt’s booth on the edge furthest from town, where the field petered out into the surrounding cedar woods.
“I figured I’d be seeing you today,” he said, looking at her over the tops of his horn-rimmed glasses. “I take it you have something for me?”