The Flame of Oppression
Near nightfall, toward the end of our play session and almost without my notice, a car slowly pulled into the lot and stopped in a spot away from us. I do not remember giving the car or its driver a second glance; we continued as before.
Oh, sure, I occasionally caught the smell of something odd, but I thought it would soon pass. Then, on the periphery of my vision, I spotted a glimpse of a flame as it burned bright, emanated some smoke, and then dulled into a mellowed orange. I reacted. Why?
Well, smoking is banned on school property. That means the driver is a criminal. And I am a father who does not want his children to be near crime or criminals. So we hastened toward home and safety.
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