A warm wind brushed on Oin's face as he stood by the back door of the blue Civic, staring at the road stretching long and vanishing in the tall trees.
Torn leaves and rubbers spun around him, floating and rolling on the dusty road as they got pulled by the wind.
Streams of laughter surged from behind Oin, forcing him to turn and look at the direction in which the women seated by tables were.
"Can't they lower their voices?" Oin said, feeling dissatisfied by the manner in which the women talked and pointed their fingers at where he stood.
Seconds passed, turning into minutes, and finally an hour as he stood there, stretching his neck and looking in the only direction he could think of.
Moving his right arm toward the handle of the car and pulling it, he paused and stared at the direction once more. But at that moment, he saw a figure erupting from the right side of the three-way road, carrying a basket on her shoulder.
