She let her bucket fall into the darkness of the well. And although she didn’t believe in the magic of prayer, its unrequited response always exasperating her disappointment, she slackened the rope as if the bucket would soon take on weight. Ignoring what she knew, she pulled the bucket off the bottom, listening to it scrape along the well’s walls, accepting resignation only after she grasped the bucket by its handle. Under a cruel blue sky, she would try again tomorrow.
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"Classic"
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