The water-bottle pedlar could not be ignored longer. Twenty minutes before she had been declined when she stopped at the table to offer her wares. Dark, with that kind of axe feature that sometimes appears on the street here. From the table she had gone 2-3m to lean against the pillar for a breather. At that post she had no better luck. While she was stopped there another pedlar of the same came up to a stop before her, a younger woman, blind in one eye from some kind of mishap. There looked to have been no words exchanged, not a single syllable, yet the elder knew her course; perhaps knew what the blind younger was seeking. From a corner of her own little stand which she had removed from her neck she took a bottle and exchanged it for what appeared a similar in the half-blind’s shelf sitting on her midriff. The elder’s may have been colder, a more appealing product on the hot street, perhaps. When the regular guitar busker was given his Rp2k (20c), he was slipped an additional 5k to deliver across, something he did with pleasure.
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