Three Tables

Zara's grandma had the list in her hand. Eggs, bread, tomatoes.

The Saturday market on Cortelyou Road was full of people. At the first table, the tomatoes were four dollars. Her grandma read the sign twice.

Zara reached for a bag. Her grandma stopped her hand.

“Not yet,” she said. “We always look at three tables.”

At the second table, the tomatoes were three dollars. “This one's better,” Zara said.

Her grandma picked up the bag, turned it around, and held it in the sun. Four tomatoes. Very little ones.

“Good price,” she said. “Small bag.”

At the third table, the tomatoes were three dollars too. This time Zara looked in the bag first. Nine big tomatoes.

“This one,” Zara said.

Her grandma laughed and put the bag in her cart. “Now you can shop.”