Lyneth and Analyn walked to the market, the sounds of the city growing louder with each step. The smell of fresh produce and cooking oil filled the air, making Lyneth's stomach growl with hunger. She had skipped breakfast to save money, and now she regretted it.
As they approached the market, Lyneth's anxiety grew. She had worked at the market for five years, but she still felt a sense of unease every time she walked through the gates. The vendors were a tight-knit community, and Lyneth was an outsider. She had no family in the market, no connections to the old-timers who had been selling there for decades.
But Lyneth had no choice. She needed the job to survive, and the market was the only place that would hire her. She had no education, no skills, and no experience. She was just a single mother trying to make ends meet.
Lyneth and Analyn walked past the fruit stands, the vibrant colors and lively chatter a stark contrast to their own dull, worn-out lives. Lyneth nodded at the vendors she knew, exchanging brief greetings as she made her way to her own stall.
Her stall was small, tucked away in a corner of the market. Lyneth sold second-hand clothes, scraps she had collected from the richer neighborhoods and washed by hand. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
As she set up her stall, Lyneth's mind wandered to her own childhood. She had grown up in poverty, just like Analyn. But Lyneth's mother had been different. She had been strong, determined, and fiercely protective of her children. Lyneth's mother had worked multiple jobs to provide for her family, and she had instilled in Lyneth a sense of pride and self-worth.
But Lyneth's mother had died when Lyneth was just 16, leaving her alone and adrift. Lyneth had gotten pregnant with Analyn soon after, and her life had never been the same.
Lyneth pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. She had to sell as much as she could today, or they wouldn't have enough money for food.
As the day wore on, Lyneth's anxiety grew. The market was slow, and she had only made a few sales. She watched as the other vendors laughed and chatted, their stalls bustling with customers. Lyneth felt like an outsider, a failure.
Just as she was about to give up, a kind-faced woman approached her stall. "Lyneth, how are you doing today?" she asked, her voice warm and gentle.
Lyneth smiled, feeling a sense of relief. "I'm doing okay, Tita Flor. Just trying to make ends meet."
Tita Flor nodded sympathetically. "I know how that is. But you're doing a great job, Lyneth. You're a hard worker, and you deserve better than this."
Lyneth felt a lump form in her throat. No one had ever said anything so kind to her before. "Thank you, Tita Flor," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tita Flor smiled and patted Lyneth's hand. "You're welcome, dear. Now, let me buy something from you. What's the best thing you have?"
Lyneth's heart swelled with gratitude as she showed Tita Flor her best items. For the first time in weeks, Lyneth felt a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better.