Katie’s booth at the market is an oasis: a green carpet resembling grass, vines and flowers intertwined through and around the shelves, the shelves themselves thronged with beautiful butterflies in elegant glass, so it doesn’t surprise me much when our friend who works at a different booth comes in during a slow time of a hard day and, with a deep sigh, sits down on the carpet behind me.
“You know one of my favorite places to sit on the floor when I was growing up?” I say as she calms down a little in the sunbeam. “The kitchen.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt comfortable sitting down on the floor,” she says, a little sadly, and I nod.
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