It's Tuesday, the one day of the week I actually enjoy leaving the shop to make the walk through town to the weekly food market. It offers the closest thing to fresh produce this town has ever experienced. It's also the cheapest, at least compared to the overpriced, processed and packaged food offered at the Food Mart, which I only visit out of necessity. My walk to the market consists of taking nearly every turn and every street to get there. I visit the market even on weeks I don't need any fruits or vegetables just so I can make this walk. It's nice, for lack of a better word, to see all the changes that have taken place in the town over the years. It's even more interesting to see what all has stayed the same. Plus, this town is full of hermits. I don't want to burden it with another one. At least not on Tuesdays.

My turn onto Polaski leads me to the crowd forming around the bank. A man I've never seen before is on top of the building, reading Bible scriptures and stumbling through every three syllable word and foreign name. A small, timid woman walks up beside me, amused by the sight. I almost don't recognize her without her dog. She's new here and looks as if she has yet to adjust. Nervously, she tries to make small talk.
"Think he's crazy?"
I shake my head. "Not any crazier than Jesus himself was."
She starts to laugh and then stops abruptly, unsure if I'm joking or not.
"Well I think he must be crazy. Why else would he do such a thing?"
I nod, not wanting to give much thought to the hundreds of reasons a person might "do such a thing."
"Maybe" she continues, "He's that criminal who escaped from the police station. I hear they're all crazy down there."
Before she can say any more, the bank's security guards step outside and push the crowd backwards. Instead of staying any longer I decide to continue on my way to the market.

This town never fails to amuse me.