The market buzzed with life — wooden carts creaked under the weight of fresh produce, colorful fabrics fluttered in the breeze, and the air carried the scent of roasted corn, spices, and morning chai.
Billy stuck close to Artur, still smiling from the laughter they shared with Tomas and his wife. Artur glanced at the bike shop behind them, wiping his hands on his jeans. "he said it'll be ready by tomorrow," he muttered. "Needs a new chain and some tuning."
Billy nudged him lightly with his shoulder. "Told you I didn't ruin it completely."
"Mm-hmm," Artur smirked. "Only half ruined it."
Billy gasped mockingly. "You were the one who said, 'let's race!' like some countryside speed demon. I was just trying to keep up."
They strolled past the pottery stalls, where children's laughter echoed. A woman offered them dried fruits in a palm-woven tray. Billy accepted a few almonds, handing one to Artur before popping the rest into his mouth. "You used to come here often as a kid?"
