Someone declares “Bleed your people, for they deserve to learn that gods need to be appeased.”
Another says “See how straight the strings of these puppets. Their limbs jerk with the slightest twitch of our wrists. You must learn from them.”
The chief who was chosen by his own people stares them down, eyes unflinching. He may not know tomorrow, but he knows yesterday. And he stands today, not alone among those who dare to imagine another way of breathing.
Meanwhile, pensioners are shot and robbed in one place, and in another, a man in a wheelchair – not the first – robs a bank.
There are many ways of hurting. There are countless ways of coming together again.