to "What can we do to help?"
The man winced as he stretched to reach for the salt and pepper. He'd been months without much besides dubious water in his canteen and flavorless food stuffs when available. Broken ribs. Not from laying in front of a tank as might have been surmised from popular photos.
"I cannot get the AID trucks in. And my people cannot cross any lines."
A pudgy man started digging through crates. "What are you doing?" A woman put in charge of field desk asked. "Looking for all the spray paints our friends sent."
"For what?"
"Well, clearly, some have been wounded for crossing lines but I didn't see any lines. Did you?"
The woman thought back in her head. It had been a wild journey.
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