Chapter Eighty-Nine

I'm oogled and examined, not a peep to be heard. Weight shifting from one leg to another I hesitate to walk away until suddenly there are whispers, then mutters and chatters.

The people moved on from me, I shift out of their sight and find a lonely corner next to the wall to sit by.

That was a warm greeting.

Resting by the wall I pull up my knees and hug my legs. With the others in my sights it's clear to see that the scattered huddled bundle of them are whispering about me, and aren't concerned if I know.

They want me to know I'm suspect. That I'm being watched and vetted.

I'm familiar with this tactic. How couldn't I recall all the times I was rescued by some shelter in the many years and decades the world around me was torn. And to that, the many times I was interrogated, ostracized and bullied in the shelters for food and supplies.

Every one was given a ration, but rarely ever did everyone have a ration.