Five-minute fiction - 00:02-00:07
The City hummed with the hustle and bustle of mercantilism. Stall-traders hurled quips, jibes, threats, cat-calls, and the occasional piece of fruit at the throngs of people that pushed their way through the marketplace. Money changed hands, sometimes more than once, and there were several exchanges of blows, often at unfair rate of exchange. If the City could be said to metaphorically have a heart, this wouldnt be it. The posh nobs who lived up on the hill would probable say it was the market square in the High Court, and others would disagree with them, but every citizen of the City could agree that if there was a heart, the marketplace wouldnt be it. It would be more the stomach, or lower intestines.
Grim sat on the sloping roof and watched the crowds thronging their way. He watched families, groups, guilds, schools, priestly orders, all intertwined by an array of colours move their way through the crowd, the colours often becoming entangled
The City hummed with the hustle and bustle of mercantilism. Stall-traders hurled quips, jibes, threats, cat-calls, and the occasional piece of fruit at the throngs of people that pushed their way through the marketplace. Money changed hands, sometimes more than once, and there were several exchanges of blows, often at unfair rate of exchange. If the City could be said to metaphorically have a heart, this wouldnt be it. The posh nobs who lived up on the hill would probable say it was the market square in the High Court, and others would disagree with them, but every citizen of the City could agree that if there was a heart, the marketplace wouldnt be it. It would be more the stomach, or lower intestines.
Grim sat on the sloping roof and watched the crowds thronging their way. He watched families, groups, guilds, schools, priestly orders, all intertwined by an array of colours move their way through the crowd, the colours often becoming entangled
lexxie:
you're a great writer 
