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31.

Morowa.

   

I bit down on my lip while the water works continue. When exactly did my life boil down to this?

The thick mist created a small weak blanket in front of me hiding the faces of the 'customers'. Everyone got in position with about three models a pole. The music drifted into my ears in a slow yet upbeat tune and the models started moving according to the music,  twisting this way and that,  making sure to make their 'goods' juggle with their movements. Everything in me screamed for me to move or at least try to imitate the models if I wanted to survive this but how could I even do what they wanted. How could I even. Urgh. These men were more than half my age and they kept raking their beady eyes over the goods. Quiet a repulsing sight. Why couldn't I just—

"I want the black girl!"

What? My head snapped forward away from the dark spac

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