Free range

We march in circles, day and night, around the pen. The ones who stop, who fall asleep, they disappear. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I got here, but exhaustion is just a word. The reality of this place is beyond insanity.

I met Lilly the first day, and she looked haggard. Now she’s on the edge of everything and it breaks my heart.

“I’m going,” she says. I can’t summon a reply. I’m just too tired.

She leaves the circle and breaks for the fence. A landmine gets her on the other side.

My God I’m tired.

Written by Gregory Lloyd

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