They were wondering around the busy fleamarket on that brisky October morning. Damp orange leaves to step on.
He went looking for some antique glass lamps while she stopped at one stand selling paintings. The old man – he resembled a sailorman somehow – smiled at her. She browsed the old pictures, grabbing an oil canvas picturing a young boy, full pale pink lips, cherry cheeks, gaping marine eyes, curly brown locks.