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Bedlam

It was a cold, winter night; frosty memories on the window’s glass. The time, it was slowly draining away. Early morning light, woken to the news of war in the Middle East. What the fuck is happening? Our daily drive interrupted when the officer asked, “do you know how fast you were going?” We felt the earthquake from thousands of miles away.

Someone said, “they’re coughing in China.” Most of us didn’t care; then, people started hoarding toilet paper. Wash our hands. We have to rewash our hands. Death took greatness and we were shakened. Now, people are dying in China. What the fuck is happening? Anxiety and depression. Wait, is that diarrhea?

Illness permeated our homes. Everyone said “unprecedented” things; history had not heard. Normal became canceled. The streets were empty, and businesses closed their doors. What the fuck is happening? We became beggars because all of our money is gone.

They covered our faces. Kneeling upon our necks, we could not breathe. The streets spoke in protest; riots claimed the night. The tyrant threatened “law and order” from his bunker. What the fuck is happening? The hornets will murder us. Then, everything goes black.

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