Here's one from the October 2004 chronicles...
As she wipes the tears from her eyes with a swish of her sleeve, she picks the wilted flower from her hair, brushes a few petals off, and resumes her walk back home.
Back home to an unlit room with no windows. Back home to a father with no work. Back to her siblings with no food in their potbellied empty tummies. back to her mother who's pregnant with the fifth of her seemingly never-ending progeny. Back to a thankless life that holds no promise, no joy, no hope, no love.
She talks in warbled words and nobody cares. A long day ahead of her, she laughs at the butterfly that perches upon a soaped vessel, near her feet, and gets back to work.