The red fabric wagon is pulled along the streets, nearing the busy market. Inside lies a little girl - her eyes closed, her breathing steady, she is seemingly asleep.

The little girl can feel every loose stone on the rocky street as the wagon wheels bump over them. The little girl is not asleep; she wants to be at the market, she wants to be around the exciting smells and sounds and people, but she doesn’t want to walk, so she is feigning sleep so that Mother will pull her in the wagon.

She wants to open her eyes, but if she is discovered, Mother will make her walk.

The girl feels the wagon rolling over the smooth cobblestone of the narrow market, and she can hear the familiar “Hello”s and “How are you”s and “Nice to meet you”s, as well as “How much is this?” and “Can I get it in a different color?”

They near the milk stand; the girl can tell because of the slightly sweet smell of the fresh milk that lingers in the air. She can hear the milkman pouring milk into Mother’s jars, and feels the cool heaviness of them as Mother puts them in the wagon against the girl’s skin.

Next, Mother goes to buy fruits. The girl can hear her voice, can smell the blueberries and apples and oranges. She hears the crisp cracking sound of the fruit lady cutting a watermelon in two, and the crinkling of plastic as she wraps one half for Mother to take home.

They go to the bakery, and the girl is enveloped with the warm smell of fresh bread and sweet cake frosting. She knows Mother is touching and pinching loaves of bread because she can hear a loud crackling sound, and is instantly reminded of her favorite movie, Ratatouille.

Finally, Mother goes to buy fabric for her new dinner dress. The girl can feel the smooth silky fabric as Mother places it in the wagon, she can smell the fresh newness of it.

As a mother pulls a red wagon home, a little girl slowly drifts to sleep inside.