was higher than my factory wage. It was hard
work, but seeing the money pile up was
addictive. After a few days, I decided to take
over Carol’s business. We worked out a deal,
I paid her my savings, and she showed me her
suppliers. A month later, my stall wasn’t just
socks and scarves. I had blouses and dresses.
To show them off, I started wearing different
outfits each day. Sales took off, even better
than the socks and scarves. Regular
customers started bringing friends. My little
stall was thriving, giving me hope. In school,
the teacher used to talk about the Lincoln
Memorial in Washington, D.C. Back then, it
seemed like a dream. But now… now I could
dream.
One afternoon, business was slow, so I sat
down to update my sales notebook. It had
become indispensable. “Mark, honey, how do
<
I look in this? Doesn’t it suit me?” Sarah’s
chirpy voice startled me. “Mommy looks
beautiful in that dress! Doesn’t she, Daddy?”
her daughter chimed in. “If you like it, buy a
couple,” Mark said, his voice warm with
affection. “How much is this outfit? Oh, hi
Lucy!” Sarah’s voice was a mix of surprise
and barely concealed amusement. I looked at
them, standing side–by–side. He was
handsome, she looked like a delicate flower in
her white dress. Even as his wife, I had to
admit they looked good together. The
amusement in Sarah’s eyes told me this was
a deliberate provocation. “Lucy?” Mark looked
stunned, then quickly stepped away from
Sarah. “Auntie, do you know my mommy and daddy?” the little girl asked, looking up at me with innocent eyes. I smiled. “Yes, your
mommy looks beautiful in that dress. Tell your
daddy to buy it for her.” Mark stared at me,
く
incredulous. “Lucy!” I looked at them both
and smiled. “Thanks for your interest. Are you
taking the outfit?” In the end, Mark paid three
times the usual price for the dress. I smiled
and pocketed the cash. Nobody turns down
money.
Then the little girl spotted a wind–up turtle at
the next stall. “Mommy, Daddy, I want that
one!” She tugged at their hands, pulling them
towards the other stall. But Mark stood
frozen, looking at me with an unreadable
expression. “Mark, honey?” Sarah looked at
him, puzzled. The stall owner, a shrewd man
in his forties, sized up the situation. Seeing
they weren’t coming over, he brought the
turtle to the little girl. “Look, it walks all by
itself! See how pretty the green is?” He then
turned to Mark and Sarah, a persuasive glint.
in his eyes. “You folks look like you can
afford it. Buy it for the little lady, eh?” Sarah,
now accustomed to Mark’s generosity, shot
me a smug look and bought the turtle. New
customers arrived. I didn’t have time for their
charade. “Hey, lady! The cops! Run!” the stall
owner yelled, grabbing his bag and
disappearing. Months of playing cat–and-
mouse with the authorities had taught me to
react fast. I grabbed the corners of my tarp,
tied it up, and tried to lift it. But it was
heavier than usual with the extra clothes. I
struggled. Suddenly, the weight was gone.
