It was night, and the stench of the sewers clung to everything, especially the sacks of grain. A long line of people trudged through the murky water: children, elders, women, and men alike, each bent beneath the weight of a coarse sack slung over their backs. Their bodies were skeletal, malnourished, arms trembling as they clutched the weight on their back. The foul water reached their ankles, swirling with filth, but none of them flinched. It was just another layer, another day of misery.
Now and then, a sack would slip into the canal and drift away in the current. Those without a load would quickly stoop to retrieve it, hollow eyes darting, desperate not to be cast out of the line. Every sack meant a meager payment, another day of life, one day's worth of food. That was enough.
"Move faster!" shouted a man beside the line. He held a whip in one hand and watched the group like a butcher watches pigs. "We don't have all night!"
