I made it to the market by mid-day. Little was left revealing graffiti littered on the shelving walls. I would have been there at open but my money was missing.
I searched and searched until I found it lying empty around my passed out parent. I felt defeated, finding only $3 left.
“Well, I guess we will be eating small and bruised today,” I said to myself looking over the remains, “Just like every other day…”
Word Count: 75
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