My Imaginary Friend Bought Me Ice Cream
By Quinn Hunter
Chapter One: Beginnings
I am sitting in Insomnia Head Coffee Shop, on the eclectic and appropriately named “Market Street” watching vendors pack up their wares. Boxes of loose vegetables are loaded onto carts and rolled into vans painted sometime in the 1970’s. Hand crafted trinkets are packed carefully into boxes and loaded into mini-vans for a craft sale the following week. Children are being rounded up by harangued looking parents while dogs, both strays and pets wander among the activity, following the smells emanating from a Vanbrugh Sons Meat truck, enticed by the smell of smoking kielbasa.
The day had been hot, the hottest day of the summer so far. You could see it on the red faces of the vendors, with their hair plastered to their forehead by sweat. Still, there were smiles everywhere.
“Looks like it was a good day,” my imaginary friend Patchwork comments from across the rickety, graffiti ridd