My Weekend (#80 of 365)

The pain from her hip radiates towards her abdomen. Her low back pulses with a fiery heat. The inners of her thighs quake from strain.

Four heavy, flat-packed furniture boxes she lugged up two flights of stairs. Over twelve hours she squatted on the floor. Her palm and thumb blistered and callused from twists of the screwdriver.

Joyful she is that the furniture is made. Overcome with bliss that her belongings are displayed. Whinge she must, that everything aches.


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