The herbs were so colorful, the vials were so pretty-too colorful. And soon, she realized it was all a show.

She didn't know much about herbs, not as much as Auntie Nema, but enough to recognize that half of these "foreign potions" were simply weeds from the mountainside.

The man certainly knew how to put on a show though, with all his shouting and promoting.

Just as she was about to leave, an older man approached the stand. The seller exclaimed,

"Here, my handsome young gentleman!" (causing the granddad to cringe in embarrassment. )

Clearing his throat awkwardly, the seller continued, "Either way... what can I do for you?"

The older man weakly replied, "Something for my joints."

The salesman then twirled like a show-off and selected a vibrant purple flower with great care, as if it were worth a fortune.

"Ah! Look no further," he declared. "This comes all the way from the other side of the country. Finest quality SpringBloom."

The granddad looked curious, his eyes filled with slight hope.

The seller appeared even more hopeful.

She felt compelled to intervene.

This old man looked poor, and the seller was about to scam him. Not to mention, what if it had side effects?

They used to grow all over her village (now her old village), and she once got huge blisters from rolling down a hill of those flowers as a kid.

Her anger flared. How could people do that? It was so irresponsible, so greedy.

Everywhere. People were so greedy. Her face turned red, her fists clenched.

She couldn't keep it in.