We set up shop at dawn,

paper cups for hand-squeezed cheer.

The sun wore gold like it meant it.

Local kids drifted in

like bees to sweetness.

We smiled till our cheeks ached,

charged a fifty pee,

said “thank you!” with our whole faces.

The sign said _Fresh!_

The air said _Summer!_

Everything felt light…

until it didn’t.

Because no one asked

where the lemons came from.

Or who cut their fingers on the rind.

Or who stood barefoot on hot pavement.

Or why I screamed from the garage.

Or why she stayed asleep

past noon with the door locked.

No one saw the stain on my shirt

or the way I flinched at loud noises.

No one noticed how I kept the change,

counted it twice,

and planned my escape.

They just said “how lovely”

and drank what we gave them,

sour masked as sweet.

It’s funny

how easy it is

to sell rancid pain

if you smile while you pour it.