_chapter eight_

                                    

                                          
Brussel sprouts are hands down my favorite vegetable. I don't care what other people think, I like vegetables, and I really love brussel sprouts.
                          
But not just any brussel sprout. I like the kind from the market a couple blocks down, which is the exact reason I walk here every Saturday to get my veggies.
                          
I gradually make my way through the vendors. I pass up the handmade soaps and breads, although the baked goods were tough to turn down. 
                          
I smile as I see Alice, my favorite person whom I purchase said brussel sprouts. Alice's dad grows all these vegetables towards in the country-side, and Alice sells them in London once a week.
                          
"The brussel sprouts are amazing this week," Alice says as I walk up, "I made them for dinner last night."
                          
She's sitting on a chair behind all the produce. Her hands are placed on her belly. I think she purposely tries to look more pregnant, so people will buy more of her food.
                          
"You say that every time I come to buy them though." I laugh as I glance at her other options. I might buy some tomatoes this week too. Mum wants George and I to come over for a pasta night. Ms. Davison has apparently found the art of making noodles from scratch, while my mother has taken on sauce from scratch. An unstoppable duo.
                          
"What can I say? I sell the good stuff." She shrugs. "But my nephew tried it and even liked them."
                          
"How do I know they're not a veggie lover as well?" I ask as I pick up three ripe tomatoes
                          
"Aren't you a veggie lover, Maia?" She raises her brows.
                          
I glance down as a sign of defeat. She knows my love for brussel sprots too well for me to lie about it.
                          
I wouldn't say Alice and I are super close. I know she sells potatoes that her father farms, and she knows I like brussel sprouts. She knows my mum and brother from the times I've drug them to go shopping with me. Other than that, we don't really know anything about each other, but that doesn't stop us from small talk and banter.
                          
We trade our goods, money for veggies, before her phone starts to ring. I place my produce in a tote bag as she chuckles towards her screen.
                          
"Speaking of the devil," she says, speaking of her nephew I believe, "he must've gotten lost on his way over."
                          
I smile. "I'll see you next week, Alice!"
                          
"If this little kicker doesn't pop out!" she calls out, pointing to her stomach, before focusing on the call. "How do you get lost this easily?"
                          
I face forward and head back to the baked goods booth. I think I will buy some bread to go with our pasta night. It'll be like carb-loading before a race, except for the small fact that we don't have a race to go to.
                          
I'm walking in front of a tall man. He's talking on the phone with someone and seems to be lost.
                          
"What do you mean I walked past it?" he asks the person on the phone. His voice is deep in a familiar way, but I don't pay too much attention into his personal conversation. 
                          
I'm watching a little kid pick up a lollipop from the floor and put it back in their mouth. It takes everything inside me not to throw up.
                          
I don't even notice that the man in front of me does a complete stop, and I run straight into his back. He turns to look down at me.
                          
My entire body freezes in place. I can't even breathe from the close proximity. The close proximity to the man talking on the phone about being lost, almost like he's never been to a London Market. The man who stands taller than me with curly brown hair. The man I never thought I would see in real life at this point in time.
                          
The man that is Wilbur Soot.
                          
"I'm sorry about that." He begins to put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me but decides against touching a random stranger. Except that we aren't really strangers. "Are you alright?"
                          
I can't talk. My voice is lodged inside my throat and won't make an appearance no matter how hard I'm trying. All I can do is nod.
                          
He sighs as he scans the crowd for a particular place. He glances back at me, seeming to have an idea.
                          
"This might be a long shot," he says. My heart pounds at the expression across his face. Is that familiarity? Does he know who I am? 
                          
I finally get myself to hum a small response, not enough for voice recognition. I try with all my might to form words, my brain scrambles to find at least one word I've ever learned, but I come up short. Not even my name comes to mind.
                          
"Do you know where Alice is?" he asks, "She sells produce."
                          
No fucking way. Alice is Wilbur's pregnant aunt that he's helping move. The woman who I buy all my vegetables from is Wilbur Soot's aunt. This cannot be real. 
                          
I point to the green tent, and Wilbur smiles.
                          
"Thank you, have a good one."
                          
And then Wilbur Soot leaves me in the middle of the crowded market as I forget every word in any language that's ever been spoken.
                          


                          
_author's note_
                          
this gave me streamer next door vibes ngl