the day at the market

As the first light of morning streamed through the small window of her room, Maria Moore stirred gently beneath her thick blankets. The soft chirping of birds outside and the faint rustling of leaves in the early breeze were familiar sounds that marked the beginning of a new day. She blinked her green eyes open, stretching her arms above her head with a small yawn. The warmth of the bed was tempting, but the day ahead called for her attention.

The smell of fresh bread and herbs drifted from downstairs, a comforting aroma that promised warmth and nourishment. Maria pushed herself up from the bed, her peach-colored hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders as she rubbed her eyes. She glanced toward the window, where the sun was rising, casting a gentle golden light over the farm. The air outside was crisp, signaling that autumn had settled in fully, and the day would be cool and clear.

After a few moments of quiet reflection, Maria slipped out of bed and made her way to the washbasin by the door. She splashed her face with cool water, the refreshing sensation helping her wake fully. She glanced down at the small, neat room she had lived in for as long as she could remember. The simple furnishings, the hand-woven rugs on the wooden floor, and the small chair by the window—all of it had a quiet, comforting familiarity.

Downstairs, her grandmother was already at work, the soft clinking of silverware and the rhythmic thrum of knitting needles filling the kitchen. The table was set with a simple breakfast—warm porridge, freshly baked bread, and a small pot of herbal tea.

"Good morning, Grandma," Maria said softly as she entered the kitchen.

Her grandmother looked up with a gentle smile, her weathered hands still holding the knitting needles, though she had clearly paused for a moment to look at Maria. "Good morning, dear," she said, her voice calm and loving. "I’ve made you a little breakfast. You have a busy day ahead, don’t you?"

Maria nodded, her thoughts turning to the task at hand. "I need to head to the butcher’s to pick up the beef today, don’t I?" she asked, her voice slightly heavier, recalling the responsibility of the task.

Her grandmother smiled knowingly, her eyes soft with understanding. "Yes, you do, Maria. After that, we’ll go to the market together. It's always a long trip, but it’s necessary. We’ll sell the beef, and with the money, we can buy what we need for the coming weeks. You’ve always done such a good job with this."

Maria’s heart fluttered slightly at the mention of the butchered beef. She had always taken a certain responsibility for this task, but the finality of it—the knowledge that Bessie, the cow she had known and cared for—was now ready for the market—always weighed heavily on her heart.

“I’ll get it done,” she said quietly, more to herself than her grandmother. "I’ll go to the butcher and then we’ll head to the market."

Her grandmother nodded, her expression kind but firm. "That’s my girl. I know you will. But take a deep breath, Maria. It’s part of the farm life. We give, we take, and we keep the cycle going."

Maria nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she moved toward the table. She sat down and quickly ate her breakfast, the warmth of the porridge filling her stomach and giving her the energy she would need for the day ahead.

Once breakfast was finished, Maria quickly put on her boots and a heavy shawl to ward off the early morning chill. She grabbed a small leather bag to carry the money they would earn from the market, making sure to tuck a few coins into it before heading outside. The air was crisp, and the sun was rising higher, casting long shadows over the farm as the world slowly awakened.

Her grandmother followed her out to the front porch, still carrying her knitting and a basket filled with small produce from the garden. She placed a gentle hand on Maria's shoulder, offering her a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, dear. We’ll be fine. You’re doing good work."

Maria smiled back, a small blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you, Grandma. I’ll be back soon."

With that, Maria made her way toward the barn, her thoughts on the task ahead. The butcher was only a short walk away, and once the beef was collected, they could load up the cart for the market. It would be a busy day, but as always, it was a day that marked the steady rhythm of life on the farm—a life of hard work, responsibility, and the bond between her and her grandmother.

The early morning air was cool as Maria Moore walked briskly toward the barn, her boots crunching lightly against the gravel path that led from the farmhouse to the road. The cart, a small wooden one with sturdy wheels, was hitched to the old, reliable horse, who pawed at the ground impatiently, sensing the day’s work ahead. Maria gently patted the horse’s neck, calming the animal before climbing into the cart and steering it down the dirt road.

Her heart was heavy, as it always was when it was time to pick up the beef from the butcher. It was part of farm life, a cycle she had grown up with, yet it never became easier. Today, however, was especially quiet, the weight of Bessie’s absence still fresh in her mind. She tried to push the sadness aside, focusing instead on the journey ahead—on the responsibility she carried and the work that had to be done.

The road took her through the peaceful landscape of the farm, with the fields and rolling hills stretching out on either side. The morning mist had already started to lift, leaving behind a soft, dewy haze that glittered in the light of the rising sun. It was a beautiful morning, and for a brief moment, Maria felt a sense of connection to the land, as though it was wrapping her in a quiet embrace.

It wasn’t long before she reached the edge of the farm, where the butcher’s shop stood, a small, weathered building with a wooden sign hanging above the door. The sign swayed gently in the breeze, the word “Butcher” carved into its surface. The smell of meat and the faint scent of wood smoke filled the air as Maria guided the horse toward the entrance, the cart bumping slightly over the uneven road.

As she approached the butcher’s shop, she could see the man himself standing in the doorway, wiping his hands on an apron. He was a burly figure, his hands calloused from years of work, but his eyes were kind, and his movements deliberate. When he saw Maria, he gave her a small wave and nodded toward the cart.

“Good morning, Maria. You’re right on time as usual,” he said with a grunt, stepping forward to meet her.

Maria gave him a polite smile but couldn’t quite hide the sadness in her eyes. “Good morning, Mr. Lancaster. I’m here to pick up the beef. Is it ready?”

The butcher nodded, his expression softening. “It’s all ready. We took good care of it. It’s packed and waiting inside. Let me get it for you.” He stepped aside and motioned for Maria to follow him into the shop.

Inside, the coolness of the space enveloped her, the air thick with the scent of fresh cuts of meat and wood. The butcher’s shop was small but well-organized, with hanging sides of beef neatly arranged and rows of shelves stocked with various meats and provisions. It was a place Maria had visited often, but it always felt different, a little unsettling when she came alone, especially today.

Mr. Lancaster gestured toward a large butchered carcass wrapped carefully in cloth. "This is it," he said. "All packed and ready for transport. I’ve weighed it out, and it's more than enough to sell at market."

Maria nodded, her heart feeling heavy as she glanced at the wrapped meat. She had known Bessie for so long, and though she had done her best to accept the farm's needs, it didn’t make the sight any easier.

"Thank you," Maria said quietly, her voice soft. "I’ll load it up."

Mr. Lancaster didn’t speak at first but gave a knowing nod. He seemed to understand the quiet sadness in her tone and made no further comment. Instead, he moved to the side to allow Maria to load the beef into the cart. Maria carefully wrapped the large bundle of beef in a heavy cloth, securing it in the cart with careful hands, trying not to think too much about the weight of the task.

Once the beef was loaded and ready, Maria turned back to the butcher. "I brought some produce from the garden to use for payment," she said, gesturing to the basket of fresh vegetables and fruits she had brought along. "I hope it’s enough."

Mr. Lancaster gave her a smile, his eyes flicking to the basket with a touch of appreciation. "It’s more than enough," he said, lifting the basket and inspecting the contents. "Fresh tomatoes, apples, carrots... this will fetch a nice price at the market too."

Maria felt a small wave of relief wash over her. The farm’s produce had always been valuable, and the exchange of goods at the market kept them going, even in difficult times.

“Thank you, Mr. Lancaster,” Maria said, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. “I’ll see you at the market later today.”

With that, she climbed back into the cart, securing the reins as Mr. Lancaster waved her off. "Take care, Maria. I’ll see you later."

Maria guided the cart out of the butcher’s yard, the horse trotting steadily as they made their way toward the market. The heavy load in the back of the cart seemed to pull at her heart, but she focused on the road ahead, knowing that the work didn’t stop here. The market awaited, and her grandmother would be there, ready to help her sell the beef and produce.

As the cart rumbled along the road, the rising sun bathed the land in a soft, golden light, and Maria held on to the thought that the day’s work, though difficult, was an important part of the life they led—a life that she would continue to honor with each new dawn.

After a few moments of quiet, the weight of the day hanging between them, Maria Moore adjusted the reins in her hands, preparing to take her leave. The beef was securely packed in the cart, and the morning’s task was nearly complete. She turned back to Mr. Lancaster, who stood with his arms folded, surveying the exchange they had made.

“Maria, the produce you’ve brought is more than enough,” Mr. Lancaster said, his voice steady and calm. “But, I also know how hard things have been, and it never hurts to offer a little more. I’ll take your goods, but perhaps we could trade for something extra next time. Let me know if you need help with the next load—anything you can’t carry or need an extra hand for.”

Maria hesitated, her green eyes studying Mr. Lancaster’s face for a moment. She had known him for years, and though he was a man of few words, she trusted him. His offer was kind, and in a small way, it made the burden of the task feel just a little lighter.

“Thank you, Mr. Lancaster,” Maria said, her voice soft yet filled with sincere appreciation. “I’ll keep that in mind. It’s hard work, but it’s our way. I’ll bring more produce, and we’ll figure out a fair exchange.”

Mr. Lancaster gave her a firm nod. “Of course. You and your grandmother work hard. I respect that. Take care of yourself now, Maria, and be safe getting home.”

With a final smile, Maria gave the reins a gentle tug, guiding the horse back toward the cart’s path. She glanced one last time at Mr. Lancaster, watching him return to the butcher’s shop with a few final waves of the hand, then turned her attention to the road ahead. She could feel the tension in her chest begin to loosen as the familiar path home stretched out before her.

The cart creaked softly as it rumbled down the road, the weight of the beef in the back settling with a slight jolt as the horse picked up speed. Maria’s heart was heavy, but there was something almost soothing about the rhythmic sound of the wheels and the quiet murmur of the morning breeze.

The journey back felt different—slower, more contemplative. Maria thought about the day ahead. She would return home and work alongside her grandmother to prepare for the market. The task of selling the beef would mark the end of Bessie’s presence on the farm, and though it was a difficult reality, Maria was determined to carry out her duty with grace.

As she approached the farm, the familiar sight of the farmhouse came into view, its outline softened by the glow of the morning sun. The fields stretched out behind it, golden and endless, the crops ripening with the season. Maria’s grandmother would be waiting for her, ready to help pack up the goods they would take to the market.

When Maria reached the front of the farm, she slowed the cart and pulled it into the small yard. Her grandmother was already outside, her hands resting on her hips as she looked up from her knitting and greeted Maria with a warm smile.

"How did it go, dear?" her grandmother asked, her voice full of concern and curiosity, though she had likely guessed from the way Maria was driving the cart that the task had been completed.

Maria gave her a tired but reassuring smile as she climbed down from the cart, the horse contentedly pawing the ground. “It’s done, Grandma. We’ve got the beef. I also brought some produce for trade with Mr. Lancaster. We’ll take it to the market together.”

Her grandmother’s eyes softened with pride, her hands gently brushing away a stray strand of gray hair. “I knew you’d get it done. I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Maria took a deep breath, looking at the cart, now full of the beef and produce they would sell. Her grandmother’s presence always calmed her, grounding her in the peaceful routine of farm life.

“Well, let’s get this inside and packed up,” her grandmother said, taking the reins of the horse gently and leading it toward the stable. “There’s still work to be done, but we’ll get it done together.”

Maria nodded and helped her grandmother unload the cart, the weight of the day slowly starting to lift as they worked side by side. She was grateful for her grandmother’s constant support and guidance. Despite the challenges, the farm was a place where they both felt at home, a place where they worked hard but also found comfort in each other’s company.

Together, they began the process of sorting through the goods, preparing them for the market. Maria felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. The journey to the butcher’s had been heavy, but now that she was home, it was time to focus on what lay ahead—the familiar rhythm of farm life, the task of making the farm thrive, and the unwavering bond she shared with the woman who had raised her, her grandmother.

The air had warmed slightly by the time Maria Moore and her grandmother were ready to head to the market. After carefully packing the cart with the butchered beef and baskets of fresh produce, they loaded it into the old carrier van at the back of the barn. The van was an older model, its paint chipped and faded from years of use, but it was sturdy and reliable. The wooden crates inside were filled with neatly packed bundles of vegetables, fresh herbs, and fruit from the garden, while the wrapped beef was carefully secured beside them, each package neatly organized.

Maria’s grandmother climbed into the driver’s seat, the worn leather of her jacket creaking as she settled in. Maria climbed into the passenger seat beside her, tucking a loose strand of her peach-colored hair behind her ear as she looked over the packed load. The old van had seen many seasons, and it was often the same morning ritual: loading up the produce and the beef, and making the journey to the bustling market that was a few miles away.

“Ready, dear?” her grandmother asked, her voice gentle but firm, as she turned the key in the ignition. The van sputtered to life with a low hum, its engine a little worn but dependable. Maria nodded, a small smile on her face despite the weight of the day.

“Ready,” Maria replied, her eyes glancing at the basket of fresh apples and the bundles of carrots. The familiar sights of the farm seemed distant now as the van began to rumble along the dirt road toward the main path leading to the market.

The journey was long but peaceful, with the van rolling slowly through the open fields, the soft sound of the wheels crunching against the gravel road accompanying their ride. The landscape stretched out before them in shades of amber and gold, the last remnants of autumn clinging to the trees, their leaves swirling in the gentle breeze. Maria looked out the window, her green eyes focused on the horizon as the familiar farm receded behind them.

Her grandmother drove steadily, her hands gripping the worn steering wheel with practiced ease. The rhythmic bumping of the van over the uneven road was comforting, and Maria found herself feeling more at ease as they got further from the house. There was something grounding about these routines, something she always cherished—though the work was hard, the consistency and quiet moments with her grandmother made it all worthwhile.

As they passed through the small patches of woodland, Maria’s mind briefly wandered to the forest behind their farm. She had often wondered what lay beyond the trees, but her grandmother had always forbidden her from venturing too close. She had never really questioned it until now, but she knew better than to ask, not on a morning like this. Her grandmother’s quiet ways had always been enough to keep Maria focused on the tasks at hand.

The trip to the market was a necessary part of their life, but it also felt like a break from the usual farm routine. It was a place where they interacted with others from the surrounding farms, exchanging goods, hearing the chatter of farmers and traders, and learning the latest news. It was bustling, and sometimes Maria found the crowds overwhelming, but it was also a reminder of how interconnected their lives were with the community around them.

Eventually, the van crested a small hill, and ahead of them, the rooftops of the market town became visible. The first signs of the market were the long rows of carts and stalls lining the streets, filled with goods for sale. The market itself was alive with activity—vendors calling out, children playing in the streets, and farmers arranging their produce for sale.

Maria could already hear the familiar sounds of the busy market, and a small wave of nervousness fluttered in her chest. It wasn’t always easy selling their goods; people could be picky, and the market was full of competition. Still, Maria felt a sense of pride in the work she and her grandmother had done to produce the beef and crops. She always hoped it would be enough to make a decent profit.

Her grandmother slowed the van as they approached the town center, eventually pulling into the open space reserved for farmers selling their goods. Maria jumped out of the van and helped her grandmother unload the crates, careful with the heavier packages of beef. They moved quickly but with precision, as they had done many times before, setting up their stall with the familiar produce and meats they’d brought.

“Let’s get everything set up, dear,” her grandmother said, her voice calm and steady despite the busy atmosphere around them. "Once it’s all in place, we’ll have time for a cup of tea and a bit of rest before the selling begins."

Maria nodded, her thoughts still lingering on the quiet morning drive and the journey they had made together. As they worked to arrange the crates, Maria couldn’t help but feel grateful for this small, peaceful life they had built together on the farm, a life that was deeply connected to the land, the people around them, and the routines that helped make each day meaningful.

Once everything was set up, the bustling sounds of the market grew louder around them. Maria glanced at her grandmother, who was smiling faintly as she adjusted a basket of apples. The day was just beginning, but the bond they shared, the work they did together, and the rhythm of the farm life felt like an unspoken promise that no matter how challenging things got, they would always have each other and their simple, peaceful life on the farm.

The market was alive with energy, the streets bustling with people eager to buy fresh goods. As Maria and her grandmother set up their stall, the air was filled with the clamor of competing voices—vendors shouting to draw in customers, each hoping to sell their produce and wares before the day was done. The sounds of haggling and cheerful chatter mixed with the occasional clink of coins, creating a symphony of busy market life.

Maria stepped back as her grandmother arranged their goods—neatly stacked crates of apples, tomatoes, carrots, and other vegetables, alongside the carefully wrapped beef. The table was set, and the stall began to take shape, with everything laid out in a way that highlighted the quality of their produce. Maria couldn't help but feel a little nervous as people began to wander through, their eyes scanning the rows of goods.

Then, the first group of buyers arrived. It started slowly at first, with a few curious onlookers stopping to inspect the produce and the neatly packed bundles of beef. But it didn’t take long before the crowd began to grow. A woman haggled over the price of apples, while a couple of men examined the cuts of beef, nodding approvingly. Word quickly spread among the market-goers, and before long, Maria and her grandmother’s stall was surrounded.

"Fresh apples! The best you’ll find anywhere!" a loud voice called out nearby, trying to compete with the bustling noise. "Juicy tomatoes, straight from the farm!"

Maria glanced at her grandmother, who stood behind the table, smiling warmly at the customers, offering samples, and engaging in cheerful conversations with buyers. The woman’s hands moved skillfully, wrapping up bundles of produce, filling bags with fresh herbs, and making small talk with the customers as they inspected the goods.

As the hours passed, the crowd at their stall thickened. The air was filled with the sound of excited chatter as more and more people crowded around, drawn in by the promise of fresh, locally-grown produce and high-quality beef. The small space became a whirlwind of activity, with buyers negotiating prices, some gently bargaining, others eager to secure their purchases without a second thought.

Maria, busy at the back of the stall, found herself moving between customers, carefully wrapping the cuts of beef and filling bags with fruits and vegetables. Each transaction felt like a small victory, and she noticed the bags growing lighter as the goods slowly disappeared. With each sale, her heart lightened just a little, the weight of the day beginning to lift.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the hours passed quickly. The market became more crowded as midday approached, with the streets filled with people coming from all over to buy food for the week. By mid-afternoon, Maria and her grandmother had nearly sold out of everything they had brought to market. The crates that had once been filled with apples, carrots, and tomatoes were now almost empty. The wrapped bundles of beef were nearly gone, with only a few left on the table.

As the dust from the market streets began to settle in the late afternoon, the last few customers drifted away, their bags full, their transactions completed. Maria wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, looking around the stall, which now stood almost completely bare. The once-busy area was now quiet, with only a few scattered crates and empty baskets left behind.

Her grandmother stood beside her, her hands folded calmly in front of her as she surveyed the empty space. Maria, exhausted but satisfied, turned to her grandmother. "We did it," she said quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Her grandmother nodded, her face soft with a quiet sense of pride. "Yes, dear. We did. It’s always a good feeling when the work pays off."

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the market, Maria reached down beneath the table to where her grandmother had tucked a small leather bag. The bag was thick and heavy, filled with the day’s earnings. Maria opened it carefully, her fingers brushing over the coins and bills inside. It was a significant sum, enough to sustain them for weeks, maybe longer.

Her grandmother smiled at her. “This is the reward for your hard work, Maria. Every penny is earned.”

Maria nodded, carefully tying the bag closed before tucking it into the pocket of her apron. She felt a sense of relief flood her chest. They had worked tirelessly all day, and though the market was winding down, the day’s success was evident. They had sold everything. The farm would be provided for, the bills would be paid, and they could breathe a little easier for the time being.

As the last of the crowd filtered out of the market, Maria glanced up at her grandmother, who was now gathering the remaining crates and preparing to head home. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the streets, and the market, once full of life, was beginning to empty. The vendors started to pack up, their stalls slowly fading into the quiet of the evening.

“Let’s head home, Maria,” her grandmother said, her voice warm and content. “The day is done.”

Maria nodded, her heart feeling full despite the weariness in her bones. Together, they carefully packed up the remaining items, and after one last look at their now-empty stall, they headed back to the carrier van. The streets, once busy and chaotic, were now peaceful again. The dust had settled, and the quiet of the evening began to take hold.

Maria and her grandmother climbed into the van, the leather seats creaking as they settled in. The road ahead was long, but the feeling of accomplishment filled their hearts as they made their way home, the bag of money a silent reminder of the hard work and effort they had put in, and the quiet, peaceful life they shared together.

As the old carrier van rumbled down the familiar dirt path toward their farm, the soft sound of the wheels on the gravel road was comforting. The sun was low in the sky now, casting long shadows across the land. Maria and her grandmother sat quietly, the day’s hustle and bustle slowly fading into a peaceful exhaustion. The fields that surrounded them seemed calm, the only movement coming from the gentle sway of the trees in the evening breeze. It was a quiet reminder of the life they had here—a life that was simple, but full of meaning.

When they reached the farm, Maria’s grandmother turned the van into the small clearing where it was always parked. She guided it into place with practiced ease, then turned off the engine. The steady hum of the van came to an end, leaving a silence that felt almost comforting after the noise of the market.

"Let’s get everything unpacked, dear," her grandmother said, her voice soft but steady, a reflection of her years of experience. Maria nodded, opening the door of the van and stepping out onto the dirt ground. They quickly began unloading the empty baskets and trays from the back of the van, each movement familiar and routine. They didn’t speak much during this task, as it had become a part of their evening rhythm. The baskets and crates were stacked neatly by the barn, each one cleaned and ready to be used again when the next trip to market came around.

Once everything was unloaded, Maria closed the back of the van and made her way toward the house. Her grandmother followed, moving slowly but surely, her weathered hands resting at her sides as she walked. The two of them entered the house, a small, cozy structure nestled among the trees, its windows glowing warmly in the fading light of day. The smell of wood and herbs filled the air as they entered the kitchen, where the warmth of the stove provided a comforting contrast to the cool evening air outside.

Maria took a seat at the small wooden table while her grandmother washed her hands at the sink. The kitchen was simple but well-kept—cabinets lined the walls, and pots and pans hung from hooks above the stove. The faint sound of a kettle whistling on the stove filled the silence as her grandmother prepared the meal. Maria looked around the room, letting her eyes rest on the small, familiar details of the house—the hand-woven rug by the door, the old rocking chair by the window, the flowerpot on the counter.

Once the meal was ready, her grandmother placed a simple, hearty dish of stew on the table, along with a loaf of bread. They sat together and ate in silence, savoring the warm food after a long day. The flavors of the stew, made from the vegetables they’d grown on the farm, were rich and comforting. The bread, fresh from the oven, was soft and warm, just the way Maria liked it. They ate slowly, both of them feeling the exhaustion of the day weigh down on them.

After they finished their meal, Maria’s grandmother took the money they had earned at the market from the bag Maria had tucked away earlier. Together, they counted it carefully, sorting out the bills and coins. It was a satisfying feeling, seeing the fruits of their labor laid out in front of them—proof of a hard day's work. They placed the money in a small wooden box, locking it securely away in a cupboard. There was no need for any more talk about it; it was just another part of the routine, another task completed.

The evening was quiet now, and as the night deepened, Maria felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. Her grandmother began to clean up the kitchen, wiping down the counters and putting away the dishes. Maria, too tired to help much, sat back in her chair, her eyes growing heavy. The house was warm, the light from the lamp soft against the darkness outside. It was peaceful here, a world away from the hustle of the market, where things were more controlled and serene.

Before long, Maria’s grandmother finished cleaning and turned off the stove, the soft glow of the kitchen light the only source of light in the room. “Time for bed, dear,” she said gently, her voice quiet in the stillness of the night. Maria nodded, standing up from the table and following her grandmother to the small bedroom.

The room was simple, with a bed covered in a patchwork quilt, a wooden nightstand, and a small window that framed the stars above. Maria took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day finally leave her as she slipped into bed, the soft cotton sheets cool against her skin. Her grandmother followed her into the room, adjusting the covers and dimming the lamp.

“Goodnight, my dear,” her grandmother whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from Maria’s forehead. Maria smiled up at her, her eyelids already fluttering with sleepiness. “Goodnight, Grandma,” she murmured in return.

With a final soft sigh, Maria closed her eyes, the quiet of the house wrapping around her like a gentle embrace. The peacefulness of the farm, the comfort of being with her grandmother, and the satisfaction of a day’s work well done filled her heart. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic sound of her grandmother’s soft breathing beside her the last thing she heard before sleep took over completely.

By 9 p.m., the house was quiet, the only sounds the soft creaks of the wood and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The day was done, and tomorrow would bring another round of work, but for now, Maria was content in the peace of the evening.

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