Day One (not again) of The Rest of America

The sound of gunshots far away, now closer, now closer, I stay very still. The news stopped telling us what’s going on a long time ago but there’s beginning to be a familiarity to the pattern: shots, then screams, then demands: join or die. Give us everything or die. Something about camps. Something about the New Boss. No one says “United States”. No one says “president.” A lot of people say “police” like that’s their name, but apparently all it takes to be a police is a gun and a willingness to use it. I stay very still. I go over in my mind: where in the house are the things I will need? How few steps can I take to gather it all? How quiet can I be? I trace the route, again and again. I don’t move. I wait for silence. I wait for dark.

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