Six Mugs Left

By noon, Tessa's market table was empty. Every mug she had made was gone, including the yellow one with a slightly uneven handle.

She folded the tablecloth with a smile. At last, her small business seemed to be working.

That evening, she spread the money across her kitchen table. Then she opened her notebook. There was clay to replace, a fee for using the shared oven, and next Saturday's market space to pay for.

After those costs, almost nothing remained.

Tessa looked at her hands. She had spent four evenings shaping, smoothing, and painting those mugs. She had earned less than she usually spent on lunch.

For a moment, she considered making them faster. But the thin handles needed care, and she liked painting the small lines around each base.

Instead, she wrote down every cost, including something she had left out before: her time. The new price made her sit back in her chair.

On Saturday, she placed the price card beside her mugs, then moved it behind a bowl. A minute later, she brought it forward again.

A man carrying a bicycle helmet stopped at the table.

"Weren't these cheaper last week?" he asked.

"Yes," Tessa said. Her face grew warm."I counted the clay, but not the hours. I couldn't keep making them at that price."

He picked up a green mug and put two fingers through its handle.

"I'll think about it," he said, and walked on.

The morning passed slowly. Tessa sold one mug, then two more. Before lunch, the man returned for the green one.

When the market closed, six mugs remained. Tessa wrapped them carefully rather than pushing them into the box.

At home, she paid the week's costs and put money aside for herself. There was enough for fresh clay, too.

She set the box of remaining mugs by the door, ready for next Saturday. Then she made herself lunch.