Trading - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

...Ordinarily I would aim to get there in the thick of the unwashed masses. It’s the only time other people make me feel safer. Then I am one of many, hooded with sunglasses on. Either too early or late and my ray bands just make seem shifty, someone they’ll try to remember. Without the shades my pink irises are just something they’ll never forget. The only people who know me are my regular trades; Jake with the meat, Frankie with the flat bread. I almost never trade for fresh fruit, it’s almost as exorbitant as drugs. Anyone who buys it get’s followed home by the Happy Boys on the principle that buying such things means you are flush with goods. Without the sun-blocker I can choose between early or late. Early means optimistic traders with no incentive to haggle hard, evening at least tips the power to me.

The man grins at me through fat lips. He knows he has the upper hand. Weapons like this are hard to come by, who would part with a fine blade for chicken and rice? He holds it to the light, a rich mahogany handle and curved blade. Then he drops it. The knife embeds itself in the cork table like it was parting dough. He follows my eyes and my expression betrays me. That's rare. A slip I won't repeat. I just tripled the price. I nod to Darwin and he removes the tins of pudding from his backpack. They're years out of date of course but no-one cares about that. Sugar is sugar. He sneers and takes back the knife. I nod to Darwin again and he pulls out candy the likes of which this old boy hasn't seen in eight years. He can't hide the greed in his eyes. The power balance just shifted to me, he won't get another piece. The trade is done.

...These antibiotics alone are worth more than a months food for just me. Anyone asking is already desperate, they’ll just hand over any price you name. Of course it pays to be fair, this isn’t a world where you want vendettas. Always be the fair negotiator and people will like you way more than they should. Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered...

..."You want extra today?” I nod. It won’t be free, there’s no point in even asking. My problem is my problem. I turn around and tell him to pull a can of pudding, four soups and a candy bar from my pack. Jake pauses, unsure, then he unfastens the catch and rummages. It’s odd him being so close, feeling the movements of his hands through the pack. Then he’s done, the cans are already stashed in his own pack. It doesn’t pay to advertise what you trade for. You might get better deals from less adept hagglers, no need to tip them off that you’ll take less. Jake takes the meat and wraps it in a bag. “I want this back next time, they’re getting harder to find.” Our eyes meet and there’s something new there. It takes me a moment to figure out what it could be. Pity maybe? Concern? Now I’m just angry. I turn before he can see it and head for bread. Frankie greets me in her usual buoyant fashion. She’s like no-one else...