Noor stood atop the market stall, his arms raised high. He held his new golden compass aloft for all to see. 'I can find anything!' he shouted to the crowd below.
A stray cat swiped at the spinning toy. It tumbled into a pile of loose oranges. Noor dove after it, knocking over a stack of clay pots with a loud crash.
The crash echoed through the quiet courtyard. Noor scrambled for the broken pieces, his face burning hot under the sun. He saw an old man sweeping near the mosque door.
Noor froze, clutching sharp shards in shaking hands. The scent of dust and regret filled the air. He dropped to his knees, beginning to stack the broken pieces back together.
He looked up at the man, bowing his head low until his forehead touched the stone. Silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the distant hum of the city.
The old man placed a gentle hand on Noor’s shoulder. He offered him a whole orange. They sat together in the shade, peeling the fruit while the market hummed softly around them.