You Can Call Me Queen Bee

Bee paused before a cart of freshly baked bread and ogled the unattainable food. A wealthy man came to the stall and bought multiple loaves before striding off, not even noticing her presence as if she was invisible. Her hand fell into her pocket but only found one coin. With a heavy sigh, Bee left and headed for the river.

There, she waded in, shivering at how cold the water was. Despite the unpleasant way it stung her skin, she had no choice but to remain in the river. Bee had not seen a bath for years, and the bucket of water she had dumped over her head a week or so ago didn’t really count as much of a clean. She bent over and started to rub her legs, trying to scrape off the hardened mud from her skin.

Bee had barely washed herself when a man harshly pulled her out of the river. His appearance immediately showed that he too was a poor nobody, though his breath smelled of alcohol. Bee struggled, but she couldn’t prevent being held down behind a patch of reeds.

As she was once again used against her will, Bee dreamt that instead of being abused scum she was an untouchable queen.