The pink tricycle

A little girl peddles her pink tricycle down the street. Over chunks of broken concrete, she peddles hard. She has yellow shoes with flowers on them. She looks straight ahead, determined. Over the cracks, over the weeds poking out like tufts of hair in an old man’s ear. She doesn’t notice her mother’s hand attached to a big plastic crutch sticking out behind her. She doesn’t notice her mother pushing her. She just keeps peddling.

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