Cold and musty weather as it is, I stumble through a torrent of rain and hail, clutching my 10 cent loaf of dry bread tucked away in a package. The Great Depression. How hard it is to thrive.
It's only been a few months, but the economy's downfall has been hard upon my mother and four sisters. We work our backs off for long hours each day, sweat pouring off our foreheads into our eyes. And yet we barely manage enough fod for one meal. With such bad weather, the crops would not grow and surely we will not fare long enough to become older than 15. What a sad, tragic ending for Bella, my youngest sister. At the age of six, the works with the strength of a fully grown man with well-built muscles. We do not have enuogh food or drink, neither proper shelter, but yet we still have times where we smile and forget about the weight of pressure on our shoulders, our lives, and the fate of the future for our country.
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