She lives such a perfect life.

She has moved 1,000 miles away from the only place she knew. Starting over is a good thing. It is sunny and 11:20 am. The dryer is temporarily kaput; all her clothes are hanging on the clothes lines in the backyard. Just like when she was little, and her mother would do the same, even though the dryer was not broken. Sun-dried clothes are better then dryer-dried clothes, she would say.  It is Sunday and the likelihood of someone stealing her clothes from the alleyway is  not so likely but two years of city living has slightly hardened her and she sits outside, waiting for the sun to seize the soap-laden water from the linens.

She occupies the teal folding chair silently waiting. For her seemingly perfect life to continue…

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