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Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Working Poor

She served bags of cheap fast food through a glass window for a living; a red uniform that smelled like grease touched her skin. Sometimes customers looked at her like food, or spoke at her like she wasn't human.
"Let me get some ketchup." "I need extra napkins." 
She made peanuts, hardly any money at all, but she had a baby girl, a small apartment, and still a few dreams in her mind.
When she would clean the filthy bathrooms, or pick up burger wrappers in the parking lot she felt like quitting; looking down at the ground and considering every mistake. But she kept going. Everyday.