•Ring-A-Bottle Game Stall•
[Ovelia's POV]
We came to a stop in front of the next game stall. The scene before me was simple and sweet, lit by strings of small, twinkling paper lanterns that cast a gentle, golden glow. The stall itself was a neat wooden counter adorned with jars of colorful wildflowers. Beyond it, dozens of glass bottles with slender necks were arranged in tight rows on a raised shelf. Their green and brown glass gleamed softly in the light.
The young man running the stall—he looked to be about my age, with kind eyes and an open, friendly face—was just handing a beautifully arranged bouquet of purple and white flowers to a beaming man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. The customer must have won. Beside him, a young woman, also around our age, was carefully collecting the large, colorful rings—each about the size of my fist—that had landed around the necks of the bottles. She smiled at the winner, and I saw the easy affection between her and the stall owner.
