Her hands are cold as she hangs her vintage garments on the metal rack.
The fog has yet to lift, trapping dampness in the morning air.
Soon the market will be busy, and Saturday's routine will be underway,
but for now she's lost in the meditative task of unpacking her haul, and setting up her booth.
She removes a pair of high waisted Guess jeans from the bin, circa 1985,
an excellent garage sale score during a road trip with J up the coast.
She thought by now she would have told him she wanted to move on,
but they too have settled into a routine of Saturdays, and Tuesdays and Fridays.