I shouldn’t waste my coin on something as frivolous as a snack, though the gurgling growl of my stomach disagrees. Ronan’s bread and Reyes’s muffins are good, but they’re still made with whatever ingredients we have on hand. Here in the city, bakeries have access to delicacies I haven’t tasted in years, and as another waft of sweetness blows my direction, I change course.
Impulsivity has often been my weakness, and I approach the stall before I can reconsider. The vendor is short with a mess of silvery-white hair, and when she faces me, I’m surprised to realize she’s human.
Wrinkles crease her kind eyes as she smiles at me. “Something catch your eye?”
“My nose, actually.” I gesture at the donuts as I dig into my pocket for some coins. “Just one, please.”
“Ahh, you have exceptional taste. Those are my wife’s favorite, but one is never enough.”
She grabs a sheet of white paper and rolls it into a cone. Fresh steam billows from the pile as she scoops three and drops them inside.
“Put your money away, dear,” she says with a dismissive wave. “It’s on the house.”
“I don’t mind paying,” I insist.
She shoves the food in my direction with a shake of her head. “You have a look about you.”
The warmth from the donuts spreads through the paper and heats my palm, and I cock my head at her in question.
She gestures at the food in my hand. “Like someone who could use a stranger’s kindness.”
All that thick emotion I’ve stashed away pushes at the lid of its box, threatening to spill over. I try to double down on my blasé expression, but it doesn’t come as easily under her inspection.
Needing to compose myself, I tear off a piece of donut and pop it into my mouth. A quiet groan forms around the buttery cinnamon and the bite of dark rum.
“Anyone could use a stranger’s kindness when it tastes like this,” I say once I swallow, and her smile turns pleased. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly,” she says. “I always welcome good conversation.”
“Why do you set up here and not in the human markets?”
She offers another smile, this one softer and laced with a quiet, lingering sorrow. “Atlanta was militarized shortly after the rifts opened, but it took decades for the fighting to stop. My father fought in those riots and lost his life for it. It left my mother a widow, but she eventually found love again.”
She pauses for a long stretch, as if she’s gauging if I’m worth trusting with her story. The assessment feels important, so I don’t interrupt, and soon, she continues.
“He was what they like to call a monster, but he was very kind and took care of me like I was his own. They didn’t hide their love, and neither side liked that very much. They made sure we knew it, too. Their relationship wasn’t illegal, but there weren’t many places we could go without getting nasty looks from others.”
She gestures around the marketplace, and I let my eyes wander over its occupants. Sure, it’s mostly monsters, but there are humans woven among them.
“Things are not so easily divided or defined,” she says, drawing my eye back to hers. “Human, monster… that doesn’t matter as much as one’s heart. When I fell in love, it also crossed that unspoken line. But we were happy, despite the ugly words and opinions of others, and I stopped hiding. I let them see me here.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say, knowing all too well the hardship of that same forbidden love.
She shakes her head. “Your struggles make you stronger, whether you want them to or not. Life is funny like that. It doesn’t give us much of a choice. Our scars tell our stories, and I believe they should be worn with pride.” She nods at my eyepatch. “It looks like you have plenty of stories of your own.”
“That I do,” I agree as I reach up to trace the edge of the leather strap. “Though mine weren’t given for anything quite so noble.”
She hums softly with a quiet note of doubt lingering in it, and after a pause, her voice is gentle as she says, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
“True,” I counter, “but there’s a world of difference between being cast aside for daring to show your love and choosing to run from it.”
“Is that why you’re in the city?” she asks. “Running away?”
A faint smile curves my lips as I give her my inevitable truth. “I’ve spent years running from it all. Even longer hiding in the shadows I built for myself. It’s time to head straight into the mess I’ve been avoiding.”
“And will wherever you’re headed get you into trouble?” she asks with an arched silver brow.
I bite my lip before deciding to put some trust in her. “It might. I have to find it first.”
