Old habit. For thirty years, she rose early to prepare before the neighbourhood stirred, before the children needed feeding, before the women gathered, before the day became communal property. The market used to open at six. She would be there before the best tomatoes were gone, before Maiguru Chipo claimed the prime spot near the entrance, before the real business of the morning began, not the buying and selling, but the talking. The catching up. The being known.