People had been wounded in the protests and in defending the people from violence.
One sign read: It is not a crime to be a Muslim
And the other-- I'm for SANITY
About five Reporters accused of everything from activism to lying for the current administration were huddled in a bus with shot out windows. They'd managed to re-winter-clothe themselves but their equipment was gone.
"But you said war means no sleep," a very young person said to a slightly older person. The slightly older person gently laughed. "That's just what we say on the road so we develop taking turns." The young person pulled at a shard of glass still stuck in the metal framework of the window. "I'll have to go back," the young person said. "We know honey," one of the Reporters finished a letter stating choosing to stay. Another dug out a postage stamp. The young person who'd brought the box of corn muffins was instructed that if the Post Office was closed, the letter should be given to a Police Officer. The male Reporter tugged at the youth's coat tail to get the person to sit.
There'd been spectacular life saves. As in Chicago, word of impending danger could travel "through the grapevine" really fast. Over there from Minnesota some newspaper people had been warned of drive-by shootings and an undefined but frenetic bunch of people searching for stuff. All the people were caught in "crossfire" and no human was bullet proof. That was how some grownups tried to explain suddenly no family.
Even more East of Chicago grownups had embodied the Republic and the American flag and teamed up to preserve, and discover. And what they'd been discovering was absolutely scary. A lot of people on drugs. Some people frozen to death. What seemed like abandoned towns and sections of city. And, groups of older children following around bad leaders. Not like shitty mayors, but leaders organizing gangs and not-American political movements!
Some people were so outraged they just couldn't. Just can't be around anyone right now, and, I understand were the wisest words goin' around.
That was how the youth's day started. With the chore/task of bringing a letter to the Post Office.
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