Four lines of prose about: customs.
Back to the market tomorrow morning. In other words, I should already be in bed.
"These people have some danged strange customs," Hank told his wife as they prepared for bed in their cramped hotel room. "They spit at you when you try to ask a question, they yell at you just for walking down the sidewalk, and I swear that big fella was reaching for a knife when I ordered a beer in the bar downstairs!"