The number under the table
Visitors rarely see the number because a crate covers it during trading. The market steward knows where it is and nudges the crate aside when checking the allocation sheet. A permanent address exists underneath a temporary shop. The distinction matters when a note is left for the stall rather than for a named person.
A borrowed arrangement
The current trader uses a table borrowed from a neighbor and a lamp belonging to someone farther down the row. Packing up involves returning the shop piece by piece. In the county fiction, the market's social connections are visible in this dismantling: one counter becomes three small journeys home.
A note for the previous occupant
An envelope arrives with only the pitch number on it. The new trader keeps it beneath the cash tin, then asks around when the rush subsides. No one is sure which former occupant it means. The little story turns on an address that is perfectly clear as a place and insufficient as a description of a person.
From the fictional county archive
You left the green cloth with us. If this is no longer your stall, please ask the steward where you have moved.
Original world fiction published by Somatry. These location stories expand the setting for readers; they are not case evidence, walkthroughs or a list of confirmed playable DLC missions.