I’ve never been close to anyone before, never got the chance to be. Some of the oth - ers speak in whispering words. At night, I hear them sharing stories and songs. Not me. With death walking in lines behind us, it is too dangerous to care about anyone other than ourselves. Fearing your own death is hard enough, but fearing the death of someone you care about? It seems like too much to bear. Then why do I ask? What compelled me to give away a note? To ask a question? To ask his name? As if it would matter what his real name might be. It doesn’t. It can’t matter. Slaves don’t have names; we don’t have friends. I could have been someone who cared that she didn’t have these things. But you have to have something to miss it. Classic stares at me, almost in shock, as if he didn’t expect me to ask. Maybe he didn’t. I’ve given him no reason to expect anything from me. He collects himself and leans He looks like he might respond, parting his lips to speak, but the others start to file out. Our hands bandaged like mummies, our souls cracking like china. But there’s no cure for that. Even if there were, I wouldn’t take it. Classic is about to speak, but a suit makes their way to us, standing behind him. We look down, our faces to the earth, our eyes watching the suit as they stand with guns and bats. When they look at us, we look away. By the end of the day, we are given sandwiches, fruit, and bottles of water. No one dies today. I hear my name in the mouths of the suits, I collected more notes than most today. It doesn’t feel as nice as it usually does. . . . That night, instead of sleeping when my head hits the pillow, I listen to the others speaking. A group of girls in golden chains whisper about reading magazines and going to stores. A group of men with steel wonder about bars they had heard from those long freed from their chains. A woman in steel comforts a young man, telling him that he has time and his gold will be gone someday. back on tree-like knees, strong but endlessly breakable. “Why’d you do that?” He asks, observing me carefully. “Why not?” I respond with a shrug.
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