The Market Beneath the Bell Tower 3

By noon, the market had sold its last pear and three dozen onions, but the dragon family remained unsold in their wicker baskets. They were not for sale, of course. They were minding the produce while their grandmother argued over the price of cinnamon. A blue hatchling slept beneath the fennel. Another had tucked a pumpkin under its chin. When the bell rang, every dragon sneezed at once, and the whole street smelled briefly of smoke and autumn.