At the market, people rushed past her — arms full of apples, flowers, bread.
She carried an empty basket.
Stall after stall, she paused, smiled, moved on.
The vendors grew curious.
One finally asked,
“What are you looking for?”
She looked at her basket, then up at the sky.
“I’m waiting for it to find me.”
She left without buying anything.
Yet somehow, her basket felt full.