The Anarchist (or about how all my things are covered in a fine red dust)

“It was the sheer number of people” said one of the students, Suha, a pretty girl with black, straw-like hair and a usually mousey type demeanor; a normally impish girl whose waspish voice might have, on any other day, gone unheard and unaffected, lost in the furious buzzing of maniacal ranting of youthful and bearded Gueverian men, and their demure yet callous and officious Beauvoirian compeers.
THE ANARCHIST (or about how all my things are covered in a fine red dust)
₢2014 C.SeanMcGee
a short story about idealism and its literal implications

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