Creative writing

It feels hot even now in September, with the heat laying on enough to sweat through my shirt. Soon enough it will by raining and cold, but for now the summer hangs on heavy. The market if filled with the smell of body, urine and fish. None of which are helped by the heat, the fetid bouquet only broken occasionally by the waft of fresh flowers and smells of the cafes wares. The contrast is sharp. It's $2.75 for a loaf of bread, and it is clear from the display that they only sell bread as a last vestige of being a bakery, as the sweets span the entire length of the display, and a full 4 feet tall; a true life dingy version of a child's sweets fantasy.