(Photo: Jennifer Burk on Unsplash)
She was not there.
Of course, she did the work. She wiped the sinks. She did the wash. She peeled the taters. Washed the floors.
But she was not there.
Not when people stopped by. Not where there were any windows open or any blinds up.
She’d been smuggled to them as a child.
A gift.
From someone.
To the man and lady of the house.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Smuggle in 66 words
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