Today's Tarot Club gathering ended fairly early. Sifa checked his pocket watch; it was only a quarter past four. He picked up his formal attire and left the inn.
He made his way to Red Moon Street and arrived at old Hadi's pie shop, where he found the old man closing up for the day.
A cardboard box sat beside him, though Sifa had no idea what it contained.
After shutting the little shop, the old man bent down to lift the box, but his movements suddenly froze.
He had twisted his back.
At that moment, someone supported him and helped him slowly straighten up. Then the old man saw Sifa's face.
"Is that you?"
"Here to buy pies?"
With a cheerful smile, Hadi pointed at the cardboard box on the ground. "There are plenty inside. Help yourself."
Sifa looked into the box and discovered that it held unsold Desi Pies and sweet iced tea.
"Are you going to throw these away?"
"Do you need a hand?"
Unexpectedly, Hadi became angry at Sifa's words. "Throw them away? How could that be so wasteful? Do you know how many people can't even afford black bread? Let alone Desi Pies!"
He was about to lift the cardboard box himself.
Sifa crouched down and briskly picked it up. "Then are you taking all this home to eat yourself?"
"Do you think I can finish that much food by myself?"
"Eyes are a good thing, but it seems you don't have any. I almost feel sorry for you, sir." Old Hadi shook his head with a regretful expression.
Sifa felt the muscles in his face twitching. He could only ask, "Then what are you planning to do with them?"
"I'm going to Lower Iron Cross Street. I'm taking these to the Poorhouse there." The