Rachel and Vanessa insisted Emily and I liked each other.
We insisted we didn’t.
So when we stepped off the bus on Rubén Darío Street in downtown San Salvador, they wandered into the crowd without us.
“See you two in an hour.”
~
The thoroughfare before us transitioned from a busy street to a sprawling flea market blocking traffic in the middle of the road.
Emily and I looked at each other, then ventured inside.
Everything became a senseless array of textiles, mannequins, and colors.
Clothing racks from one shop spilled across the street, intermixed with boxes of shoes from the next.
The shops appointed themselves in garish colors, and lit with artificial lighting.
Each had a radio, blasting tinny-sounding Spanish Reggaeton music in a hundred different beats.
I wanted to cover my ears and run away, yet I was drawn inside.
Emily and I picked our way through the labyrinth, textiles brushing against our skin. Tarps fluttered between the shops overhead, providing midday shade, which now felt stifling and hot. Shoppers pressed in all sides, cutting us off and slowing our progress, while their keepers called out to us. The smells of diesel, sweat, and pupusas pressed in—a maze that seemed to repeat itself for miles.
A hundred feet in, we turned around.
Outside again, the city had changed.
Merchants hurried to pull corrugated shutters over their stalls. The lights winked out one by one. Shadows merged. Faces became harder to read.
A shudder ran up my spine.
Every wall tagged, every bus dented and scarred. Men lingered on corners, tattoos creeping from sleeves and collars, watching the flow of traffic with unreadable eyes.
At this moment, Emily found a police officer walking the street asked about our friends. They stood out here—one Black, one Asian—and he nodded, saying he’d seen them heading toward the market. Beyond that, his directions grew vague.
“I don’t want to go back in.”
Then I took a breath.
“Okay.”
Just then, Emily tapped my shoulder and pointed.
I followed her finger, and there they were—browsing jewelry at one of the last open stalls. Not in the market at all, but just on the outskirts.
They looked up and smiled.