As I pad through the marketplace, my vision is scanning the commodities and my mind in a wonderland. I am here for some groceries.

I rarely cook because I usually come back late when I am starving and exhausted, so I either do a take-out on my rich days or head to the centre. “Would you like vegetables?” a slim dark-skinned lady who seems to be in desperate need of an evening vegetable sale asks politely. I kindly decline and move on.

I have a favourite vendor. She is a kind middle-aged woman. I have been her customer from the time I moved out of my parent’s house. After months of being her regular and chit-chatting, we become friends.

From that point in time, I have been like a child. As I approach her stall, she anticipates with a smile.

“I’m always happy to see you?” She speaks with ingenuity. “How are you?”I ask.

“A bit troubled. It has made me weak,” she asserts.

“How is your family?” she inquires with kindness.

“They are well.” Replying with doubt as I remember the last time I visited them “And the girlfriend?” she asks teasingly, and I can’t help but laugh. “Still praying…” I answer with a shy smile.

“As we pray, as we pray, as we pray,” she remarks with emphasis covered with a smile. “What may I get you?”.

©joeln