( it’s not a route she would have taken on her own — well-off wives don’t go wandering through fish cages and alleyways, or narrow paths. they strut through the market, spreading their largesse and being seen. well-off widows, it seems, have a different view of things. and once they’re behind the stacks of fish, natasha checks to make sure they’re not being followed, keeping close enough to him that he won’t lose her.

there’s something about his shoulders, the line of his back. something that feels … familiar but she can’t place it. a pang of an ugly feeling, something that tastes to her like desolation — he must remind me of my husband. )

You know, I think I’ve done all I need to do at the market today. ( she says, slowly, tucking her basket under her arm. it’s only half full but… she can’t stomach going back there. ) How much further is the rest of the way? I’m sure you have .. rope to get back to.