The Sun Always Rises

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Farouq pushed his cart breezily down the alley in the cool twilight before the sunrise. Dodging a tottering trashpile, he emerged onto the street.

 

Avoiding Ali and his cart, Farouq rushed ahead toward the pierside market. A gull called loudly overhead. A ship's horn sounded from ahead, as though in answer.

 

There. A stall with only two in line ahead of him. Good, maybe Farouq could make the breakfast rush outside the courthouse.

 

Farouq peered ahead to the merchant's table. 20 Munnies a kilo? Not the cheapest chickpeas, but he could just about fill the pot at that price.

 

As he rolled his cart forward to be second in line, Farouq watched the merchant step out from behind the table. Strange. Normally they didn't want to lose any time. Could... He was changing the price.

 

25?? There was... no way...

 

* * *

 

 

Farouq had sold 2 falafel this morning. At this rate, he'd have nothing worth counting tomorrow.

 

This was it. No way forward. Nothing.

 

* * *

 

Abdul needed to stop smoking. Cigarrettes were costing more and more. He couldn't possibly keep buying packs like that, not on a clerk's salary and, ah, tips.

 

Huh. That was a funny smell. Like a kind of meaty oily smell. A bit stronger than the falafel cart usually... There was a crowd growing around the falafel cart. The falafel cart which was on fire.

 

The falafel seller who was on fire. And not screaming.