The woman at the fish market wrote the prices on my hand with a pen

I stood completely lost in the fish market in La Libertad at nine in the morning and a woman behind a counter looked at me and started pointing. This one for ceviche, this one for the grill, this one tomorrow. She wrote the prices on my hand with a pen so I would remember. I walked out with enough fish for two days and a very honest receipt. I did not wash my hand for six hours. The ink was a little blue. The numbers were right.