My mother woke up early the next day and went to the market. She was a frequent seafood buyer. The moment she showed up, the owner eagerly tried to sell their goods. They said they had big, fresh prawns."Why don't you get some, Melanie? I bet your daughter would love them."My mother said dazedly, "My daughter doesn't like prawns. She's allergic to seafood."The owner was stunned. "What? But I thought Eve loved prawns." My mother said nothing and went to the vegetable kiosk. She strolled around, picked up a carrot, and put it down. She did the same to the bell peppers. Odd.Even the owner found her behavior weird. So, they inquired, "What kind of cooking do you have in mind? Maybe I can give some recommendations?"I saw my mother standing in her spot, trying to think of something, but nothing came to her. Oh, right. She had no idea what my favorite food was. I never had the privilege of ordering the food I wanted, nor was I a picky eater like her.I had no freedom to choose. I
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