Ann didn't give me much time to sulk in the square. She simply patted me on the head (rude), half-smiling, and said,
"This way."
So, I followed.
The restaurant wasn't far, I could see the square from here, barely, not front-facing the main attraction, but at least within walking distance even if you were drunk and just going anywhere.
A few turns through the chaotic arteries of the market, though to me it felt like pushing through a river of bodies forever. When we finally stopped, I knew right away we had arrived.
This part of town was the more high-end shops and not the crowded market.
The building was unmistakable, just like what Ann told me in the call: pale sandstone walls gleamed faintly under the punishing sun, cut into the sharp yet graceful shape of a temple.
Two enormous obsidian lions crouched on either side of the door, their eyeballs carved inwards so they seemed to follow you no matter where you stood.
