Bright and early Saturday morning, Ainslon arrived at Edna’s house. Twice a month, they visited the farmers market and Ainslon would never miss it.
She’d made it home relatively early the night before but had tossed and turned for a good hour, thinking about Lauren. She tended to overthink things but couldn’t help it. Her nana always said overthinking would be her downfall.
The farmers market first, then her thoughts could stray to Lauren later.
Before she could even get out of the car, Edna was walking down the steps. Ainslon jumped out, kissed her on the cheek, and opened the passenger side door for her.
“Stop staring at me, dear. I’m not dead yet.”
“Nana.” She groaned. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“It’s no secret I’m old.”
“I know.” After fifteen minutes of driving
