image by chi
 

 

 

A tragedy happened at a local sweet shop.

Be aware--- it's a modernized sweet shop with high definition computers and young women with high hopes. 

"No, there was nothing wrong with that, darling." The male boss quietly lit up his grass and watched the gilrs work behind the smoke.

He couldn't care less. 

It was purely the demand of the society. Sweet shops were necessary. To mourn in sugary pleasure and to rot all the teeth.

Female cheap labors were necessary too. 

It's how the money flowed and how everything was built up on. "Including your coffee beans, you mobiles, your nails and the keyboard you are typing on right now." 

The female workers were paid at a minimum wage for their heavy duty and over-time which would eventually destroyed all their dreams and self-awareness.

That's why no one heard that gun shot which shattered the window glass and dissolved into a living head.

The head of a penis. The head of a bull. The head of a dollar bill.

"Should we weep or celebrate?"

These women for one second were set free. They breathed the cold street air briefly.

Only too soon, another sweet shop was formed right on the same spot. Even bigger than the last one.

"Do you need the pay check to feed your kids?" 

Yes.

"Do you need the money to get away from your abused husband?" 

Yes.

"Do you want to full-fill your dreams of careers?"

"Do you want to be independent?" 

Yes yes yes.

"Do you want to clear your debts?"

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

It's sugar coated. But we all knew how bitter that was.

 

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