He told me the thing he remembered the most wasn’t the silver bracelets that kept his arms behind his back or the smell of a car interior in desperate need of an odor neutralizer.
Nor was it the chatter of the radio or cackling of the people who saw him get his silver bracelets.
It was a hand.
“The hand on the back of your head stays with you. That rough push down that they do to keep you from banging it on the door frame is the clearest sign that you are not seen as a human.
It is a rough shove like they would give livestock they are guiding into the barn, which I guess is kind what happens.
Because they lead you to a barn or maybe a pen is a better word and lock you in.”
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