"Oh, they notice." Marron crossed to the window and rested her hand on the glass. "They notice everything. How you look, how you serve, even how you stir your soup. In this city, food isn't just eaten—it's performed."
"Is that bad?" Mokko asked.
"Not bad," she said slowly. "Just… different. I used to think a full belly was proof enough that a meal mattered." She paused, remembering the street market—the egg bread in stamped boxes, the cheese pull game, Millie's moon cakes on painted plates. "But maybe there's more to it than I thought."
Lucy tilted in her jar. "The market lady was nice!"
"Millie," Marron said, and found herself smiling. "Yeah. She was." She turned from the window. "I'm meeting her tomorrow morning. Early. She's going to teach me how she makes those moon cakes look like… well, like they matter."
"They tasted like they mattered too," Mokko pointed out.
