Den

Early this morning I sat on the edge of my cold steel bed and waited for the Red Guard to take me to the public square where I would be executed for love.  Tired and sore, I pulled myself up.  I would not miss this prison and its reeking sewer hole that delivered roaches and slime rats at night.  It was always dark down here except for a tiny thick glass window that allowed in an occasional sliver of gray light from somewhere above.