Page 183 - creative spark 2020

181

And then there was Liron.
We first met three years ago. Back then, Liron was a voiced
kid who had run away from home. For some reason, I took the kid
in,and we lived together in my small, majestic apartment. At that
time, I didn’t keep a diary as just running around to keep our lives
together was exhausting enough.
Liron, I later known, was the president's secret child, born
from a mute servant, and just hated how people were treated
unequally--like him as the side his father could not reveal. A childish
protest, yet I was pleased.

The kid didn’t know I used to be a voiced until I sang--
breathy hushed mumblings, barely audible, but it was definitely the
music we had heard blasting from the cranking radio.

The mutes did not know what singing was.

After that day, I often sang during the nights, hushed, but
Liron didn’t have the guts to ask why I had become a mute.
A year later, I started teaching Liron martial arts, infiltration
and negotiation skills. I came home much later than midnight, when
the library was closed. Sometimes I came back every two days, or
months. Once the preparations had been made, the child knew
about the rebellion.
I told him in morse through a thin film of satisfaction.

Liron couldn’t hold his mouth, urged, “For what?”
I glared back, like shooting daggers, then calmly tapped

the table, replied. “Essentially everyone, including me.”