Freedom in the Loneliness // [Pari/Tsara]

First light, and she's already dressed and in the kitchen. Her mother which is one the relationships most changed, like to like now aims a spoonful of oatmeal at her. "It's your turn to go to the market Tsara." Her tired eyes work up from Tsara's sensible boots to her too tight jeans and flowing tunic. Every item of clothing has - at some point - belonged to a boy, so her mother cannot protest. She knows it; her mother knows it.

Her mother's mouth goes hard. "And you're taking Pari with you as a chaperone."

An hour of protests and eventual wailing avail nothing. Soon, they are on the road to the market, the orange sunrise painting them. Tsara bundles her threadbare wool coat closer, knowing she won't find warmth anywhere else. "Did mama give you the list?"