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They met back at the car and headed for Stacy's.The trip there was a bit subdued. Betty tried to keep the conversation going, and on a light tone, but Stacy was nervous. There was some obvious tension in the car.When the two girls finally arrived, they set out the food and wine on the coffee table, adding in the condiments they liked. After the obligatory tour of the place, with the usual 'excuse the mess' nonsense, it was time for lunch. Sitting on the floor on opposite sides of the table, enjoying the food and wine, they did little talking.After the food was done, Stacy poured them each another glass of wine."It's time to see what this thing looks like." Betty picked up her package and headed for the bedroom. On the way, she bent over and gave Stacy a nice, soft, warm kiss on the cheek."What was that for?"Betty replied as she was closing the door to the bedroom. "Revenge. I've been haunted by that smooch Anastasia gave me for a year now."Stacy could feel the imprint of those lips. It was the topic of quiet discussion throughout the bazaar. Some said that they were families who had tried to escape the cities; others said they had sold themselves, knowing that they would be fed. Still, others said that the sellers had built themselves a nice little para-military who raided farms, ranches, and towns. The scene was eerily similar to what they told us about back in school. Slave auctions of the 1850s and 60s. The auctioneers would only deal in gold, which they would provide through exchanges on either side of the stage. For sale at the moment was a young boy, he must have been 16 or 17. “This young lad is well built for labor. Throw him out in the fields and he’ll grow you a fine bounty of vegetables. Can we start the building at a half-pound of gold, that’s 8 ounces… Yes, I have 8 ounces…” I couldn’t watch this. I made my way around the bazaar and found myself behind the giant stage. I am not sure why I walked there; I guess I was just curious to see what went on.
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