My back ached as I steadily pulled the wagon back to my shop from my trip to the capital. I really wished my efforts were reversed, being forced to go uphill with a loaded wagon and downhill with an empty wagon. I was glad since that I baked the pies that my name wouldn’t be drawn to participate in the contest, but it was nauseating to be forced to watch it The upperclass gets pleasure in forcing us lower class people eat pies that cause intense vomiting, diarrhea, and stomach pain.
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