Broccoli Heads × Onion Heads Market Street, ZANABIA

Market Street in ZANABIA has its own rhythm—half chatter, half crunch. That’s where the broccoli heads meet the onion heads. All young adults. No clans, no backstories, no introductions needed. Just a friendly crossing of paths between vegetable folk who already know the unspoken rules of the street: smile first, joke lightly, never rush a good conversation. The broccoli heads are fresh-green and confident, florets catching the morning light as they lean against a spice stall. The onion heads, layered and expressive, arrive with that familiar half-tease, half-wisdom energy—eyes bright, expressions dramatic by default. “Still pretending you don’t cry during sad songs?” one broccoli head grins. “Only when I’m chopped emotionally,” an onion head shoots back. Laughter follows. Easy. Zanabian. Around them, the street hums. Shopkeepers—mostly ginger heads, turmeric heads, and the ever-polite Persian cat heads—call out prices with warmth rather than urgency. Hands exchange coins, spices, fabric, and compliments in equal measure. In the far background—barely noticeable unless you’re paying attention—the suited alligator head browses methodically, adjusting his cuffs between purchases. A little further down, the egg-headed mermaid lady examines glass jars with quiet focus, her movements fluid, entirely on her own errand. They are not together. Just part of the city’s gentle background magic. Back at the center, the broccoli and onion heads linger a moment longer than planned. No drama. No plot twist. Just young Zanabians sharing a street, a laugh, and a slice of everyday wonder—before drifting off into the market, each layered, each growing, each perfectly at home. Very ZANABIA. 🥦🧅✨