Chestnuts

On a crisp December afternoon, Bob found himself drawn to the irresistible scent of roasting chestnuts outside the St. Lawrence Market. Bundled in his favorite winter coat, camera slung over his shoulder, he approached the festive setup. A man in a snowman-adorned apron stood over a crackling fire pit, flipping chestnuts with a pair of tongs. His reindeer antlers bobbed comically with every motion.

"Afternoon," Bob called out, smiling as he admired the scene. "You and the chestnuts having a little chat?"

The man chuckled, his breath visible in the cold air. "Oh, we talk all the time. They tell me when they’re ready."

Bob grinned, crouching slightly to frame the glowing coals and the roasting chestnuts. “What do they say?”

“They grumble at first, something about being tossed into the fire. Then, as they warm up, they mellow out and start singing—snap, crackle, you know?” The man winked.

"Sounds like a tough crowd," Bob joked, snapping a photo of the scene. The light glinted off the man’s antlers, the rustic charm of the market in the background.

Bob stayed for a while, chatting about the market’s history and the art of roasting chestnuts. Eventually, he walked away with his photo.

The market hummed with life, and Bob smiled, knowing he’d captured a little slice of Toronto’s charm through his lens.