She sits up. Looks into the white round mirror that sits atop the Old English-style makeup table she’d bought long ago.
She’d wanted to have something beautiful something she bought herself not another hand-me-down.
It had cost more than she made in a month — all the money she’d had in the world at that moment — but for those few moments it was the table of a princess.
Though in time its legs would wobble a little and it would chip all over and the drawer handles would come off it was a fantasy she’d wanted to have just that once.
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