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She gestures to my stall. “And look at this! You levelled up, this is huge.”

“I know. It felt right.”

Before we can catch up properly, two customers step forward, admiring a collection of original paintings displayed along the back wall.

“I’ll let you get on.” Megan smiles. “We’ll have a proper catch up later.”

“We better,” I reply, hugging her again.

She disappears back into the crowd just as another familiar face appears. Then another. Old trader friends, people I haven’t seen in years whilst I fought and recovered from the cancer. Each one stopping just long enough to hug me, tell me they’ve missed seeing my work on the circuit, and welcoming me back like I’d never really left. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed this. Not just selling. Belonging.

By ten o’clock the aisle outside our stand is three people deep.

By eleven, I’ve completely abandoned any hope of live painting. The easel I’d optimistically set up has become little more than an expensive decoration. Every time I think I’ll finally get five minutes to pick up a brush… Someone else arrives.

"Is this really original?" — "Do you have this as a print?" —"Can I pay now and collect it later?"

My cheeks actually ache from smiling. “Lennie,” I call over my shoulder. “Can you grab another stack of The Strigoi prints?”

“They’re gone.”

“What?”

“We sold the last one ten minutes ago.”

I stare at him. “Seriously?”

He grins. “I told you around half the prints were gone.”

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“I don’t exaggerate.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“I occasionally exaggerate.” He shrugs. “But not this time, we’ve sold almost half of all of your art prints already.”

“That’s… Incredible.” I laugh.

By lunchtime, the print rack needs rearranging since whole collections have disappeared. I’ve already unpacked another storage box from beneath the table, and for the first time all day I stop long enough to take it in. This isn’t just a good day. It’s an unbelievable one. I doubled my usual stock on a whim and a prayer. And in less than four hours, I’ve sold what would usually take an entire weekend.

I scan the hall for my friends, hoping their day is going just as well. Someone dressed as the Tenth Doctor poses for photos with a family of Ghostbusters, whilst a tiny Wednesday Addams solemnly accepts a sticker from Spider-Man. It’s perfect. Here, in this space, everyone belongs. No matter how strange or how niche—it’s all met with smiles, admiration, love and acceptance.

“Excuse me.”

Turning back to my stall I find a customer holding one of my largest originals. “I think this one’s coming home with me.”

My heart skips. “Really?”

She grins. “I keep coming back to it and it’s still here on visit number five, so that’s a sign.”

Smiling widely, I carefully wrap it for her. If today carries on like this I might actually sell out. The thought almost feels too hopeful to say out loud. Sell out. I’d be able to put the money back, start putting things right. It won’t fix everything, I know that. But it would be something, a start.

“Luna?” Lennie’s voice pulls me back. He’s standing beside me, phone in hand, again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen him checking it today. Every few minutes his eyes drift back to the screen. Typing, waiting, reading. It’s unlike him. Normally, when we’re trading, the outside world barely exists. Today… Something has his attention.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly while the aisle finally enjoys a rare thirty-second lull.

“Yeah.” The answer comes a fraction too quickly. “Just sorting something for the kids.”