Chapter 5

I farmed, and sold in a market on the outskirts of the high end section of the nearest town. My customers were doctors, lawyers, bored housewives, people with money, usually. They were nice people despite being well to do, and most were concerned enough to ask questions about how the food was produced, and how fresh it was. I had a core group that pretty much wiped me out every week, but this particular Saturday it was raining pretty hard, and it was an outdoor market. I only sold about half my product, and realized the rest would be going to a soup kitchen I supported. I always gave a portion of my vegetables to them anyway, my attempt at being a good citizen.

I was taking the short way home, going through the ‘bad’ section of town when I blew a tire. Cursing under my breath, I pulled under the shelter of a defunct minimart. It took me a while to move my produce out of the way to get to my spare, and I had it scattered about as I hurried to change the flat. Bad neighborhood, remember?

I was just letting the jack down when I heard a small, wavering voice.

“Them collard greens?”

I looked up to see a tiny black woman, guessing her to be sixty or better, looking at the basket.

“Yes ma’am, that and some kale thrown in. Do you like collards?”