Megan’s booth
The air carried a heavy mix of fried dough, grilled onions, and the musty scent of worn leather. Megan felt the heat of the sun pressing down already, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Her small table was carefully arranged: soft baby clothes folded neatly, rattles lined in a row, colorful books stacked evenly, and a scattering of toddler toys for effect. But all her nerves circled back to one thing—the stroller she needed most to sell.
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