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.