The market was all but lifeless. The warm morning was twisting the atmosphere into a confused roil, and the skies warned of consequence. The vendors that hadn’t already given up were seriously considering following the lead of the rest as tarps flapped menacingly above baked goods, produce, trinkets and clothing. The good people of the city had taken their extra dollars to bright, dry supermarkets and malls. There would be no commerce today.
“Key chain?” The question startled Dustin out of his reflections and he looked down at the dark haired boy that blocked his path. “Handmade,” the kid continued, “all leather. I did the etching myself, see?” He held up a small black flap with what appeared to be a rough bird scratched into it. “Only five bucks.”
Dustin shook his head. “No. No, thank you.”
“They’re good luck,” the kid insisted. “Especially this one.” He waved the key chain with the bird yet again. “Crow can talk to the dead you know.”