I like it when daddy takes me to the Sunday Market.

I like seeing the townsfolk in their smart clothes. Not like daddy who only ever wears overalls. The ladies dressed in pants driving their trucks. Daddy sees me lookin and snaps, “Get back to them apples, and don’t be getting any ideas in that head of yours.”

But ideas I do get. Sometimes I imagine that Tim with the smiling eyes is going to pull me behind the tent and whisper, “Run away with me pretty Sally. Be mine.” But then I snap back to reality… No one’s calling me pretty with them welts on my back.

Image by Bikurgurl

Written for Bikurgurl’s 100 Words Wednesday 173 prompt

One thought on “The Sunday Market

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