Five days after her dinner with Edmund Erwell, Marron was walking through the street market with Mokko when she spotted Millie sitting on a bench, eating something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

Ice cream. Vanilla ice cream, from the looks of it. But not in a cone or a bowl.

Sandwiched between two golden-brown crackers.

Marron's breath caught. She knew those crackers. Knew the exact shade of honey-brown, the slightly sweet taste, the way they'd soften just slightly from the cold cream but still maintain enough structure to hold everything together.

Graham crackers. Or this world's equivalent.

Ice cream sandwiched between graham crackers.

The memory hit her like a wave—hot summer days on Earth, the ice cream truck's tinny music, neighborhood kids with dollar bills clutched in sticky hands. The cheapest treat you could buy. Simple. Humble. Perfect.

She'd eaten hundreds of them as a kid. Shared them with Jenny on her front steps, both of them racing to finish before the ice cream melted through the crackers. Laughing when it inevitably did, licking their fingers, not caring that they were a mess.

"Marron?" Mokko's voice pulled her back to the present. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just—" Marron gestured at Millie. "Where did she get that?"

Millie looked up, mid-bite, and waved them over. "Get what? Oh, the ice cream sandwich?" She held it up. "New vendor, just set up last week. Makes the most nostalgic food. You should try some."

"Where?" Marron's voice came out more intense than she'd intended.

Millie pointed toward the far end of the market. "Near the north entrance. Can't miss it—the stall has a yellow and white striped awning. She makes hot dogs too, and these little fried doughnuts. Very humble stuff, but it hits different, you know?"

Hot dogs. Fried doughnuts. Ice cream sandwiches with graham crackers.

Street vendor food from Earth. Or so close to it that the difference didn't matter.

"I need to see this," Marron said, already walking.

Mokko followed, matching her pace. "You recognize that food."

"From home," Marron said quietly. "From Earth. Before Savoria. Before everything changed." She weaved through the market crowd, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn't entirely articulate. "Those were the foods I grew up with. Summer foods. Childhood foods. I didn't think I'd ever see them again."

The stall came into view—exactly as Millie had described. Yellow and white striped awning, hand-painted sign that read "JENNY'S CART" in cheerful letters. A small service window with a grill visible inside, and a simple menu board listing:

Hot Dog Sandwiches - 10 g

Box of 6 Mini Doughnuts (fried fresh) - 15g

Sweet Crisp Ice Cream Sandwich - 20g

Lemonade - 10g

Combo meal: 1 hotdog sandwich, sweet crisp ice cream sandwich, and lemonade - 25g

Four hotdog sandwiches wrapped in paper, 2 boxes of mini doughnuts, and six ice cream sandwiches, neatly packed in a takeaway freezer bag.

The prices were modest, even for Savoria.

The vendor's food cart wasn't as ramshackle as hers had been, back in Meadowbrook Commons. It looked like a cart that existed on Earth, in any small town, feeding poor families.

Marron approached slowly, feeling like she was walking through a dream.

The vendor was turned away, doing something at the grill. She was humming a tune Marron didn't recognize, light and cheerful. Her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she wore a simple apron over comfortable clothes.

"Be right with you!" the vendor called over her shoulder. "Just finishing up an order."

That voice. Marron's chest tightened.

The vendor turned around, smiling, and Marron's world tilted.

She looked so much like Jenny.

Marron blinked and quickly scanned this familiar face. Some features were slightly different. This girl's bone structure wasn't as high, and her eyes were blue instead of green. But the resemblance was enough to give Marron pause.

The vendor's smile faltered slightly when she saw Marron's face. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Sorry," Marron managed. "You just... you remind me of someone. From a long time ago."

"I get that sometimes," the vendor said easily. "Apparently I have one of those faces." She wiped her hands on her apron. "What can I get you? I recommend the ice cream sandwiches if you haven't tried them yet. Made with honey crackers—I call them sweet-crisps here, but they're based on a recipe from... well, from very far away."

From Earth. She meant from Earth.

"Are you..." Marron hesitated. "Where are you from?"

The vendor's expression shifted—something guarded flickering behind the friendly facade. "Here and there. I've moved around a lot." She gestured at her cart. "But this food? This is home food. The kind of thing I grew up eating. Figured other people might want that feeling too."

It was a deflection. Not quite a lie, but not quite truth either.

"I'm from Earth," Marron said quietly.

The vendor went very still. Then, carefully: "That's a long way from here."

"Yeah. It is." Marron felt tears prickling at her eyes and tried to blink them back. "I've been here a few months. This is the first time I've seen food that reminds me of home."

"Earth food is simple," the vendor said, her voice softer now. "Humble. Nothing fancy. But it's honest. It feeds people without pretense." She pulled out two ice cream sandwiches from her cold box. "Here. On the house. If you're that far from home, you deserve a taste of it."

Marron took the sandwich—cold against her palms, the sweet-crisps already starting to soften from the ice cream. She bit into it and nearly sobbed.

It tasted exactly like the ice cream sandwiches from Earth. Vanilla ice cream, slightly sweet crackers, the way the cold and the crunch and the cream all balanced perfectly. Simple. Unpretentious. Home.

"You're from Earth too," Marron said. It wasn't a question.

The vendor—Jenny, the sign said, though that couldn't be right—smiled sadly. "Was. Long time ago now. Been in Savoria for... twelve years? Thirteen? Long enough that Earth feels more like a dream than a memory sometimes."

"Do you miss it?"

"Every day." The vendor started preparing hot dogs on her grill—the familiar smell of cooking meat and toasted buns filling the air. "But you can't go back. So you bring little pieces of home forward instead. Make the food that reminds you. Share it with people who might need that reminder too."

Marron ate her ice cream sandwich slowly, savoring every bite. Mokko tried his and made a surprised sound—apparently even without Earth nostalgia, the combination worked.

Lucy, in her jar, got a tiny bit of vanilla ice cream and seemed delighted.

"Your name," Marron said hesitantly. "The sign says Jenny."

"That's right." The vendor flipped hot dogs with practiced ease. "Jenny Vasquez. Been running street carts for about eight years now. Started with just hot dogs, added the other stuff as I figured out how to source ingredients here."

Not the Jenny.

It wasn't Marron's childhood friend, but her heart still ached.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.