Yes, I was right.
The market area has never been this empty: there are very few people compared to usual, and that leaves quite a bit of space to move around. Usually, everyone is packed together, and that often leads to accidentally bumping into someone else — embarrassment through the roof. Not to mention the heat that builds up: if I had to compare this place at its busiest to another location, I'd liken it to a nightclub.
People go there to have fun, to unwind, maybe even drinking some alcohol — which I can't drink because I'm still underage, and even if I could, I don't think I would.
I've already tried classic stuff like beer or wine, but I never liked them. Their taste can be described as "bitter," and in the case of beer, also "bubbly"? Yes, if I'm not mistaken.
So, point one is settled: I wouldn't go there for a drink.
At this point, one might think that I could hypothetically go there to listen to music — but no.
If I stepped inside, my eardrums would explode in an instant: I can't handle that music overloaded with beats without dying.
I hate it.
I'm not saying the songs are bad, but the way they are amplified like that gives me a headache. Honestly, I prefer something lighter, maybe even something without words, made purely of melody: a soundtrack, for example.
I would really like to listen to something while carrying out this demonic mission. A calm sound would help me relax — not too much, just enough so my legs don't give out.
I have horrible memories of the only time I tried to dance: I looked like a stranded fish. Better not to go into details.
Back to the market area, its center is completely free, with various shops on both the left and the right. There are all kinds: boutiques, butchers, fruit shops, and who knows how many more I haven't discovered yet.
Since I only need to buy fruit, I'll head to the greengrocer. That's a relatively safe place for me, in the sense that the person who runs it is an elderly lady with immense kindness. Her name is Annamaria, and I'm glad I met her. I don't know how, but when I cried as a child, she somehow managed to make a candy appear in my pocket. To this day, I have no idea how she did it, though I assume it was some kind of magic trick.
She's one of those people I wish I could speak to freely, yet there's always a bit of awkwardness on my part. I'm not really my true self, but only what my body can manage to express.
I check my pocket, where I put the shopping list, multiple times. This is another thing I always do: even though I fully know the pockets of my jacket are closed, I'm never completely convinced and end up checking repeatedly that everything is there.
I've lost money a few times, and obviously it upset me a lot, because I literally threw away my parents' effort. Our society is built on money, and without it, not everyone can live a life considered decent.
Thinking about it, I suppose my parents have accustomed me to a certain standard. I'm not talking about a rich life, but a comfortable one that allows you to indulge in a little treat every now and then. Thanks to them, I've never lacked anything, but when I'm on my own... when I have to live in a possible house of my own, will I really be able to maintain that level considered decent?
And what if I ended up on the street? If I weren't able to interact with the world?
I don't want that ending. I don't want things to end like that. Not... is this really the right moment to ask myself these questions?
In front of my stupid eyes is the legendary fruit shop I mentioned earlier. There's no sign: the only thing visible is a series of baskets containing all kinds of fruit, even something exotic like "dragon fruit." I've never tried it; I'm a bit picky with food, and it's really hard for me to try something new without the slightest reluctance.
My mother always said that once I outgrew baby food, I ate nothing but milk and plain pasta. I know, it sounds impossible even to me: what was going on in my stupid little head? Pasta with no sauce has no flavor, but... I have to admit I still eat it today, of course with some oil and a generous helping of Parmesan cheese.
Only with time have I learned to eat lots of good things, yet I'm still far from completing the full "Pokédex of foods."
I enter the shop, putting my best manners into practice.
"G-g-good morning."
No one hears me, probably because I spoke so quietly that it pierced the silence in a negative way, like... backwards.
As soon as I step inside, I notice something else. There's no one! What a relief! I won't be intimidated by people I probably wouldn't see again.
I look around to see if Annamaria is there. If she weren't, it would be a real problem... but at least I'd have an excuse to tell my mom for why I didn't buy anything.
I move around a bit; the shop is full of baskets of fruit, and as I look closer, there are also a lot of vegetables. Broccoli, baby broccoli, potatoes, lettuce, cauliflower, and many others. These are some of the foods I've slowly learned to enjoy over the years, and I have to say they're delicious. Now I love vegetables — especially potatoes. No matter how they're cooked, they're one of the wonders of the world for me.
You can boil them, fry them, mash them, cut them into cubes, sticks, or thin slices... and they're always good. That's a rare quality, if you think about it.
What a funny situation. I was sent here for a specific reason, and instead, I'm just staring at baskets full of potatoes. If anyone saw me, they'd think I was crazy. Totally.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
I jump. I didn't even have time to prepare: usually a few seconds of anti-panic prep are useful... or maybe I wasted them staring at these tubers. Yes, that's definitely it, I blew the little time I had.
The truth is, I expected her to appear at any moment, yet I sincerely hoped she wouldn't. I guess I jinxed myself.
I turn to look at her. I decide to count to three and then answer: staring at her for three seconds isn't strange; if it were longer, the situation would become... awkward. The silence would fill everything and leave no escape.
Three.
Two.
One.
"G-g-good morning."
This time it came out a little better. Not loud — but enough to be a real sound, not just a vibration in the air.
Her gaze meets mine. I take in her appearance. She always has that sweet smile, yet I can clearly see the signs of time. She's aging, and that... leaves a strange sensation in my body.
Annamaria is behind the counter, slightly bent forward as she arranges some green apples in a basket. Her gray hair is tied in a messy bun, and she wears a floral apron that seems too big for her. Her hands are small, but they move with a confidence that makes me think she's been doing this job her whole life.
"Oh my..."
She says it almost to herself.
"You know... you've grown so very tall. I remember when you used to come here with your mother wearing that pink coat all the time."
I lower my gaze to my shoes for a second. I never know how to react to comments about my physical growth, as if my body had happened without my permission.
Well, I suppose I have grown. I'm no longer the tiny kid I used to be. I'm definitely taller than a normal child, although compared to others my age, I'm still somewhat like a garden gnome. I wonder what it feels like to be tall...
I say nothing, just nod.
"How are you? It's been a long time since you came here. Too busy with school and friends, right?"
What's with all this positivity? Friends? I don't even know what that word means. But I can't tell her the truth: she'd be heartbroken, looking at me with pity. And I don't want to disappoint her, I don't want this sweet lady to find out about the small girl's failure that I've become.
I have to lie. I don't like it, but I have to.
"Y-yes... e-everything's fine."
Ah! I can't speak. Not only do I repeat words, but I mess them up too, and I have to correct myself.
"That makes me very happy." Then she tilts her head slightly. "Do you need anything?"
I nod perhaps a bit too quickly. As I said, I love her presence, but at the same time, I can't wait to be safe back in my room.
"Y-yes. Mom gave me a shopping list."
The shopping list.
I take it out of my pocket as if it were a sacred relic.
She takes it, reading it calmly, moving her lips silently. Words without sound that can still be understood through lip movement. I'm never able to comprehend them. Never. I don't know how others decipher messages like that; I've never succeeded.
I see this technique often at school when my classmates try to copy from each other, and sometimes messages even arrive for me. Too bad I can't understand them and end up looking stupid.
"Apples, bananas... strawberries if there are any..."
She lifts her eyes to me.
"Do you like strawberries?"
I stiffen. Bonus question. Not in the script.
"Y-yes, I mean... yes. I like them."
"Good, because today they're really good. You'll be amazed."
Really? Amazed? That calms me for reasons I can't explain. If they're "really good," then everything is fine. The world is still in order.
She turns and begins putting the fruit one by one into a paper bag.
A small spark in me tells me I should help her, talk to her, support her as she continues her work. I mean: if an elderly person keeps running a shop alone, it's not always just for survival, but also out of a personal principle — a desire to continue her passion, to not just watch the horizon. A firm will to stay engaged that life often tears away.
Instead, I just stand there.
Watching.
Like a villager with nothing to trade, wandering uselessly.
I think I'd like to be like her. So calm. So solid. So... present. Not always trapped in one's own head like a room without windows.
I wonder what she's thinking right now. Maybe she's remembering every time she saw me as a child, or maybe not — so I'm just imagining a false reality.
Annamaria turns to me again.
"Do you need anything else?"
Panic!
"No! I mean — yes — no — I mean..."
I breathe.
"J-just this."
"Then we're all set."
Crap, I wasn't ready. Panic, fear, terror... What if I had to take something else? What if what's needed at home isn't here? Mom might scold me, saying I should've checked what was missing or not, although... wait a second: there's only fruit and vegetables, I don't think there's anything else absolutely essential.
She places the bag on the counter.
"Here you go."
I remember that there used to be glass jars full of candies right there. Setting aside the magical candy anecdote, I'm sure those candies were more given than sold. Her kindness didn't touch only me, but other little souls too.
Wait... I still need to pay! How stupid! Lost in my thoughts, I forget a fundamental thing.
"H-how much... do I owe you?"
"Normally it would be 10 euros, but since your family always shops here, I'll give you a 50% discount. So 5 euros."
I nod.
I dig into my pocket a little too quickly and pull out my wallet. My fingers suddenly feel huge and clumsy as I search for the right bills.
"Take your time, don't rush."
Her suggestion is lovely, but things won't change: no matter how much support I get, I always feel anxious about the smallest action.
Meanwhile, she watches me. Her gaze isn't neutral, it's not trying to grab me; it's calm and affectionate.
Finally, I find the money and place it on the counter with an overly precise movement, as if performing a ritual.
"You can really see you're a good girl."
"E-eh?"
What does that mean? How can she tell? How can she judge like that?
"I can tell just by looking at your face, I don't need anything else."
She hands me the change.
"Never hate her."
"W-what?"
"One day you'll understand, it takes time to understand many things."
I look at her, puzzled. I didn't expect that last sentence.
"A-all right, I-I'm going..."
I turn to leave the shop. It could be the last time I enter, who knows.
"Come back to see me."
Damn. Now I'm obliged to come back, or I'll feel guilty. Every act of kindness towards me can become a chain connecting me to others.
Yes, I won't mind seeing her again.