The Flea Market At the Veteran's Center

Long before dawn we find the most incredible silent energy. A line of cars and trailers packed with questionable treasures idle, waiting for their booth assignments. In the field, in the light of headlights hushed merchants set up their tents and tables startled only by an occasional tent pole striking the pavement. Some, self satisfied, have been set up for hours, these are the "professionals", who calmly wait for the start. Various degrees of chaos marked the rest as they try to decide how to best present their once prized, nostalgia wrapped, discarded, rejected, hopefully priced right, wares. In the half light a question permeates the air. It is a question that goes back in time before mini-vans and pick-ups to push carts and horse carts and before. Will I make enough to cover the booth fee? Will I sell enough to cover the check I wrote to pay the booth fee? Will I make enough to pay rent, feed my children? What will I do if this doesn't work?