W.I.P. She had the beauty of a wild flower, delicate and rugged all at once. Tan, from working in the sun; toned from carrying babies on her hip. She was private, keeping mostly to herself and speaking mostly when spoken too. She did her work thoroughly and steadily, her hands knowing what to do on their own. He didn't know her too well, just in passing, or from saying hello but he'd heard some of the others talking and from what they said she had just recently filed divorce and was working so she could keep the apartment. And looking closer he could see the worry that laced her vibrant hazel eyes. The callouses on her knuckles, and the way she carried herself, deliberately, almost as if she was wary. Of what, he could not guess. His work did not usually bring him near enough to her to give him an excuse to talk with her, but one day he was reassigned to work directly with her filling some of the green houses. When she met with hi
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