Her phone vibrated with a message from a customer who loved the embroidery she had delivered and wanted to order another one. Megan allowed herself a small private smile before continuing down the street with her bag over her shoulder and her back straight, certain that somewhere ahead waited a drawing table, bright colors, and a life that finally belonged to her.
“Who would ever look at you, chicken?” the husband m0cked, not realizing that the reckoning was getting closer and closer.
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