Story Of The Streets

I live on the streets and my name is Alice. I am 11. And this is my story.


2. .

As I stuff the infested, shoddy rag that I use as a blanket into the carrier, I feel the cold smoothness of my late mothers treasured locket. I should have sold it years ago, but I knew she'd want me to have it. As the loss starts to kick in, I try to distract myself, but  it's no use. The pain hits me like a bomb;I sink to the hard, tarmac ground and clench my fists as the tears flood my face.

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