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Boston Bread

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The sun wakes me up once again as I lay in an alley. I walk about a mile to go get the bread. My stomach is empty from not being able to afford a meal. We pay for the bread and then set off to our territory. On a good day we can sell all of the bread before lunch time. After everyone is done we all meet up at the same diner. We eat with what we earned that day and hope we will have extra money for bread tomorrow. I lay in the cold alley that dark night with a bad cough. Lots of my friends have been getting pneumonia lately and I think I have it. I get worse and worse and fear if I don’t get help I will die. I decide to go back to the refuge and try to get better. As I lay on the hard bed coughing I wonder if it was a good idea to come back.





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