Alinna hated when this thing happens. She felt forced, but she didn’t had any choice. She can’t let her mother and her young brother does this for the family; it was her responsibility. She walked to the town hall and found a growing lane of people. It broke her heart seeing numerous old folks in their torn-out working clothes. She stood at the end of the line, tried not to empathize too much, and waited for her turn.
“Good morning young lady,” a mid-aged, badged woman behind the table told Alinna; a cue that it was her turn.
She sat at the wooden stool in front of the woman’s table—still warm from the previous commoner.
“Is this your first time, young lady?” the woman asked as she hand her a familiar textured parchment.
“Actually, it’s my fourth.” She smiled and started writing.
Alin
