Susan stomped her way down to the village market. The sun was already high, she'd swelter walking back up the hill in the lunchtime heat. John's fault. She'd found him still in the Shark's Head, slumped over the counter. No use in shouting at him, he wasn't in any state to pay attention, bleary-eyed and hungover, surprised to find himself still there. Damn him.
She bought peanuts for setting on the bar and some olives for the tables. The fruit was all bruised and battered, the vegetables dry and sad-looking. All the decent stuff had been bought hours earlier, while she was cleaning out the kitchen and sweeping the floors. John's fault again, he should have done all that last night. She bought skinny-looking green beans because she knew he didn't like them and then she bought some green apples because she knew he did.
As Susan gathered her breath for the trek back up the hill, she noticed a woman sitting in the dust, leaning her back against the side of a stall selling bikinis and wrap-around skirts. Their eyes met.
"How big do those come?" Susan indicated a violently pink bikini.
"You don't need as big as all that," said the old woman. "You need a small one."
"No, give me a big one. That one will do."
She paid the woman and started her trek. Too wasted to clean the bar, eh? Well, explaining to all his buddies why he was lying on the floor in a pink bikini should teach him.
Opening: Sylvia.....Continuation: Khazar-khum