A full year had passed since we were exiled beyond the wall. The comfortable life we used to live behind the walls turned into a journey of suffering. We no longer owned more than our daily food, and above our heads was that worn out roof that barely stood against the wind.
Despite all that, fortunately, my mother knew how to live here. It seemed as if she knew the alleys, the people, and even the places where food could be obtained at a lower price. Thanks to her, we managed to survive in this new environment.
My mother got a job in a small sewing factory. She used to leave at sunrise and come back after sunset, her face pale, and her hands full of small scars from needles and scissors. I tried to convince her to let me work with her, but she refused.
She used to say while taking off her coat,
"One of us has to stay with Iris, she's still young. Besides, you don't know how to use sewing tools, but I've been used to them for a long time."
