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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃

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STROLLS DOWN THE MARKET
was the lady with a name Robin.
Poor, peeling leathermade strap
of her treasured suitcase slinged
around her shoulder as she walk
off the place, a sack of fruits she
bought on her shoulder.

   "Is this enough for him?"

Robin questioned herself, not
knowing what the gentleman
she owes to and there to visit
taste on fruit before she head
to her way to Oregon.

Dusk had fallen, the bustling
roads wasn't the same as day,
it was silent, with few people
littered across the streets and
the lady didn't notice that not
until she saw the lamps were
on.

𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢᵗᶦᶜ ᵇᵉᵃˢᵗˢ Where stories live. Discover now