Sora wanders through the village market with no list and no agenda — and discovers this is its own kind of practice.

A small open-air market with wooden stalls, hand-painted signs, buckets of wildflowers, and baskets of vegetables catching the morning light
The Stillwater market ran on Tuesdays. Nobody knew why Tuesday. Nobody had ever asked.

Sora walking slowly between stalls, hands empty at her sides, no bag, no phone, just looking
She'd arrived with nothing to buy. That had felt strange for exactly one minute, and then it hadn't.
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