Strings of Marigolds

I walked down the sidewalk until I reached the flower stall on the corner. Hanging from a bamboo pole beneath the canvas awning were long, heavy garlands of fresh marigolds. I climbed onto a low wooden crate to get closer... reaching up to touch the dense orange petals. The blossoms were tightly packed, velvety and surprisingly cool to the touch. Their earthy, peppery scent drifted into the morning air, just like the festival garlands draped over courtyards during celebrations. One loose golden petal rested on the crate beside my hand. I rolled it between my fingers, feeling its soft, ruffled edge.