the square

the square Evan Sullivan

Flash Fiction

40

Wow, it sure is hot out today. I can’t wait for summer to be over. I carried my plastic shopping bag, alternating hands after a little while because my hands started cramping up. It had been quite a strange month; students and civilians alike had been protesting against the government. Yesterday, it seemed as if the uprising had been quelled. I pressed on home, swapping my shopping bag between hands. After reaching an intersection, I pushed the button for the crosswalk and patiently waited my turn to cross. Ding! The little pedestrian light lit up and I stepped off the curb, nudging my glasses back up.

I could hear the clanking of heavy machinery approaching at a rather fast pace. Turning to face whoever was trying to run the red light, I was greeted by a column of tanks. I stood my ground. It’s my turn, I thought. I won’t be intimidated. And it worked, for the tanks stopped in front of me instead of going around. Despite there being heavily censored media outlets, I found out the next week that some American had taken my photograph, and that the world clapped for me. I nudged my glasses back up.