We were all moving on this day. Although, I forgot my wheeled cart. An elderly woman offered up hers only it was nowhere to be found and moving hour was fast approaching. The others joined in on this search. Somehow every shopping cart we tested was not quite right. Our exhaustion set in and our troubles were met with short breaks of licking bee brood – a brilliant purple and orange paste that rippled in texture and tasted of golden comb. A young fellow sat on his bed, savoring his portion, while removing his shirt. He held out his clothing and insisted I take it as a souvenir (so that I may remember him). Of course, I didn’t even know who he was, so I refused.

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