clutch my bundle of clothing beneath a single arm. Turning away slowly, I whisper my apology to the seemingly kind man as I step away from his stand. That is when the green pleated skirt I spent hours stitching falls from the pile, landing behind me. I spin on my heel, bending to pick it up before the merchant notices and— “Hey! You got money for that, girl?” I stumble into a run. I’m a terrible person who steals and runs from the consequences. Not that Pae is a terrible person. No, I’m just not cut out for this. My conscience can’t condone this sort of dreadful deed. “I’m sorry!” I shout as I
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