Beyond The Broken Market
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"Here you are," Hazel would softly say, reaching a palm full of fresh cherry tomatoes outwards towards the patron as she dropped her head. Each day was the same. She'd wake up, ordered to become dressed, follow the rest of the women in line towards the market to sell fresh fruits, vegetables and wares to patrons, return the cash for the day and return back to her cell. Rinse and repeat, Hazel sought for more. Not remembering how she became enslaved, she worked on figuring out how to escape this place.
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