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We drove down the street. I stared outside. The people still there, cheering, screaming. some were crying.

“See they love you.” she smiled at me, ” You’ve done so much for them.”

I shook my head, still trying to figure out so much. Quick thoughts ran through my head.

As we drove, I put pieces  of my life together. The leather comforted me as I listened to this girl ramble on.

“I remember when you ran for class president. So angry at a flat-line democracy. That was a part of the reason why so many fall into the cracks, drowning in the pouring rain of the bureaucracy of political correctness.” She caught her breath.

And I picked up where her voice of the angelic whisper that rang in my ears. I saw a building before me. I felt the anger, hate, rage, the joy. I coughed gently as my breathe caught in my throat. My heart racing as the blood rushed through my head.

“Political correctness, starts here, now. We are the bane in the governments eyesight, blinded by greed, lust, facts of lies for power. We are the new voice. We are the people. We are the T-shirts of the world. Everyone has a T-shirt. Wealthy, poor, child, adult. We are worn as a cleaning rag, seen as a statement, tossed to the side. When worn so well that they become that of the forgotten.”

The room erupted. I remembered the words. Felt them. Believed them. What was best, they believed me, they heard. They all came, gathered as tiny pebbles to make a wall out of something passed by because it is so minute, we disappeared.

She smiled at me nodding. Tears in her eyes. I felt the melancholy of the moment as she handed me the drink of Vodka and a brown vile. My hips ached from the pain. I drank quickly as the concoction burned my throat to my heart. Catching my breathe, she looked at me with concern. She leaned back and smiled at me.

“Never forget my dear Brother, your honour. Don’t loose it. Those disappeared pebbles put you here, you forget them, they will forget you and become sand. To be washed away with the tides of time.”

I nodded as the liquid filled my body, soothing it. I saw the manuscript under the seat. We stopped and the door opened as the blinding light made me squint. As I looked through slitted eyes, the darkness stepped in to shade the sun and a man sat in the open seat of the limo. His was a look that of a man, never questioned, steel eyes to pierce your very soul, the jaw so stiff you could crack an egg on it. He settled in as the door shut nodding to my sister, she hopped beside him, becoming quiet as death, feeling close and eminent. That chill down your spine as your toes become numb.

“Well Senator.” He kissed my sister and when the embellishment of closure of the activity was a small peck, no feeling. Her lips draining of life.

I felt on the move again, almost as if to hold up my end. Only hoping that my words would help the wall remain.

Until next week my friends…

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