The market clamor rises the moment Sehra reaches the top of the step. From the wisps of loud conversation she can pick out it seems one of the fig sellers has done something of note. It’s not her doing, just coincidence. Still the crescendo feels like a cheer. She allows the event to calm her mood with the false sense of importance.
She closes her eye to focus on the voices in the growing mid-morning heat. She’s searching for the once voice that can help her this morning. [aurally journey through a bunch of market stalls I can’t think of anything interesting for right now]. There it lies. [something characteristic about the voice I can’t seem to make up this morning–shit, should be even writing?].
Carn leaps to the end of his leash when he in turn senses Gotline’s thin snore. He pulls Sarah off balance and down the steps.
“Nah. Cheeb,” Sehra commands. She sinks to a squat to rub the dog’s head. “Not so fast Carn. He’s a sleep and I am hungry again…still. Tet. Let’s find some breakfast.”
Word count: 178