A Tale of Social Justice

Posted February 28, 2012 no picture

Member since January 26, 2012
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I stood behind the small desk that held the cash register, donation can, and some assorted knick-knacks. It was a warm, slow Kentuckiana day. She opened the door to the thrift store - quietly. She wore jeans, a plain white shirt, and a dark cardigan. The clothes were not in the best shape. They were not dirty though, just well worn. The clothes might have been a little wrinkled, and there were hints of small wrinkles on her cheekbones. Her wrinkles were not from age though, she was only 30 or 3...



  • Member since January 26, 2012