The town square bustled with noise and life. Bright banners of blue and gold rippled in the late afternoon sun, half-secured to poles that jutted awkwardly from the rooftops. Men shouted instructions back and forth while hauling wooden beams into place. Children wove through the crowd, their laughter blending with the clanging of hammers and the scent of sawdust.
"Lower it! No, no—lower, you half-brained mule! Do you want Asmethan Himself to think our town leans sideways?"
Betty's voice boomed over the square. She stood in the middle like a war commander, brandishing a kitchen spoon as though it were a spear. Her husband balanced precariously on a ladder, trying his best to tie a banner straight while his wife threatened to "feed him to the pigs" if it so much as tilted.
