The neighbors call us White Trash. They judge us by our cover, something society should never do. Sure, we collect cars (for parts) and store troves of treasures—knee-deep—around our single-wide; but we have something else. Kindness and empathy in spades. Just ask Smooch, the three-legged dog, saved from certain death at the kill shelter. Or Edgar, an injured crow, set free once he healed. He still pays a visit each morning, leaving trinkets on the back stoop. It’s lucky that Lucky-the-Bunny, starving in a hutch as Papa weed-eated The Rich Folks' yards, made it to the wrong-side of the tracks.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - March 2021 Photo Prompt
Keep it simple, Stupid!
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