A young woman walks down a dirt road. Her brown curls bounce and her books swing in her basket as she hurries along. She is not late of course, she likes to arrive early. Conversations stop as she passes, and eyes openly stare. She, however, takes no notice. She learned long ago not to listen to gossip. People would say things like, "Who does she think she is?" or "It really is a pity, what can become of beautiful women like that." Most of the young men were intimidated by her, and the girls were spiteful. Older women would sometimes grab her hand and say, "You're in our prayers." She would smile with closed lips and move on without saying a word. They treated her like she had a disease. But she was fine, everyone makes mistakes. Some people's mistakes are just more noticable than others.
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