The next afternoon, a silver car pulled up to the front gate 🚗. Doina stepped out, carrying empty canvas sacks and wearing her usual expectant expression. She marched straight toward the porch, completely ignoring me as if I were invisible, and turned to her brother.
“Marian, is the first batch of early radishes ready yet?” she asked casually 🥗. “Nicu wants to know when we can come pick up the spring onions too. We need to plan our grocery shopping around what you give us.”
Marian stood up from his chair, looking at his sister with a strange new perspective 👁️. He looked at her manicured nails, her spotless clothes, and the complete lack of empathy in her eyes. Then he looked at my tired hands resting in my lap.
“There are no radishes, Doina,” Marian said firmly, his voice surprisingly strong 💪. “And there will be no spring onions, no potatoes, and no zacuscă this autumn. If you want vegetables, you will have to buy them at the public market like everyone else.”…
