It’s Donation Day, and we line up outside the cafeteria. Afternoon classes are canceled, which would
be good except today is Art day. I like
Art class.
I line up with the others. One
by one we pass by the open warhead and add our hatred of the enemy to the
seethe. When I make the sign and spit,
only a few dribbles emerge. The soldier
doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s recording it all. Too many under-donations and my whole family
will get marked as Unpolitical, maybe even Seditious.
I can’t even feel very upset about that anymore.
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