By Jim Bates
The sun rose red through the smoky haze as they appeared, neighbors in small groups of young and old, banding together in the aftermath of the previous night’s riots. They bent to the task of cleaning up, soapy buckets sloshing, brooms sweeping and colorful paint laden brushes whipping back and forth in perpetual motion, removing the hateful graffiti from the night before. They were doing their own quiet battle, these peaceful civilians, pushing back against the rioter’s destruction, eyes nervously watching the clock ticking toward approaching nightfall, hoping that today would finally be the last time they’d have to retaliate.
“I write to try and bring a bit of happiness to people.” – the writer