Jack walked through the farmer’s market, Sunny and Goose marching before her. The two were on the search for plums, and Jack had just needed to get outside. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and she had wanted to take her car out for a spin. The kids had been desperate to do something, and the farmer’s market had presented itself as though a gift from the creator, himself. A place to park was secured, a small basket summoned, and now they strolled the pedestrian-filled streets. Sunny had donned her favorite raincoat, despite the lack of precipitation, and Goose was snug in a sweater – she had not been able to convince them otherwise. She could not be pressed upon to dress anything other than casual, having already debated on whether or not she could get away with wearing pajamas. Deciding that she did not want to soil her last clean pair, forcing her to do laundry, was the only thing that ensured she pulled on real pants that morning.
Sunny and Goose were capital chums, and Jack was glad. Goose had been taken to Mungo’s and it had been discovered that his terminal illness was actually a magical disease that had treatment options. He was now getting treated, though some says the treatment hardly seemed worth it. It weakened the boy heavily, and Jack was not sure his life was any better for it on the days where he could hardly lift himself out of bed. But then there were days like today, where he and Sunny raced each other, pushing and pulling, laughing and talking over each other. The usual solemn cheeks turned rosy and those calculating eyes lit up. His entire being seemed to exude the love he had been given by the Dyllan-Morrison clan. This boy was very different from the boy she had practically stolen from the hospital.
“Jack!”
She turned to see the kids waving her over. They were hovered over a large box and there seemed to be a peeping emanating from within the cardboard confines. Jack felt a pleasant spike of dread within her system as she slowly approached, looking mightily apprehensive. “We probably can’t afford it,” she warned, only half-joking.
The pair had plunged their hands into the depths of the box and they now slowly withdrew them, revealing the fluffy ducklings that they had spotted. Jack looked up to see a nearly toothless man lounging in a chair. His booth featured eggs of all shapes and sizes, as well as a cooler full of different poultry meats. He was smiling widely at the children – though whether the smile was tempted by the innocence of her wards, or by the prospect of an easy sell, Jack was not sure. She finally reached the area the man had set up for himself and peered into the box. Bless the kid’s hearts – they had grabbed the ugliest of the little critters.
Jack sighed. “No more pets for the year, then.” She doled out the money so that they could feel impressive in their purchases. “Now come on, let’s actually get food for our fridges.”
The kids trailed behind, stroking their new friends. Jack could hear Sunny whisper to Goose, “If we’re good, we can get puffskeins for Christmas.”
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