The Corner Everyone Needs

Tobin liked the bridge corner best when it was calm.

From under the long arch of the bridge, he could see the market lane bend around the river steps, with rope handrails on one side and snow-packed stalls on the other. The wind usually ducked away there. That was why Tobin had helped keep this corner clear all morning. It was the kind of place where people could pass without bumping carts, and where deliveries could slip through in order.

But now the corner was not calm at all.

Sella, the tiny cloth-dyer with silver braids and berry-stained fingers, had planted her stool there and draped bright wet cloth from the rail so it would not freeze stiff. Across from her, the other busy stallholder had crowded in with his covered goods and would not budge either. Both said the corner was the only safe shelter for their things. Sella tapped her skirts and said, “My colors will turn dull in that wind!” The other seller frowned back and held his arms over his wares like a nest bird.

Tobin lifted his brass key ring and tried to sound steady. “The lane needs this corner clear,” he said. But the words only made the two sellers argue louder.

Then a pair of customers slowed, listened, and turned away. Another one did the same. Soon the people who usually hurried through the crossing were drifting off to the sides, choosing other paths through the market instead.

Tobin stared at the emptying lane, then at the two stubborn stalls pressed together in the only warm corner under the bridge. He could try to make them move. He could try to persuade them to share. Or he could look for a new way to fit both of them into the shelter without letting the cold reach their goods. The bell under the bridge hung still above him, and the whole lane seemed to wait for what he would do next.