A girl’s voice protested. A cackle followed.
Leah kept her head down and her eyes on the task before her. There was a quota to complete if she wanted anything in her stomach, and she could make her body dead to wandering fingers. She’d learned how. The hard way. The only way.
When the foreman finally moved on, she gritted her teeth and tried to not compare slime to slime.
Not that she would ever touch the stuff. And not only because it was forbidden.
Beside her, Mandy sniffled. “How can you stand it?”
“Perhaps she doesn’t mind him,” Becca hissed. “Seeing how she never cries.”
Leah clenched her teeth, locked her knees, and steadied her breath. She focused on the fading light glinting on the blade. “No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”
For the dVerse Prosery writing prompt
Prosery prompt quote: “No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” (Zora Neale Hurston, from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow, 1928)
Photo: Hine Lewis Wickes, The Library Of Congress https://www.loc.gov/pictures/resource/nclc.00919/
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