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Morning arrived with pale sunlight spreading across the landfill and the first trucks growling into view. Noon came when the heat pushed down so heavily it felt like even the air was exhausted. And evening… evening arrived when the pain in her chest began—not from work or running, but from hunger twisting tightly beneath her ribs.
She was eight years old, tiny and fast, slipping through the dump as if it were a path only she understood.
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