“crack!” sends a shiver down your spine.
The statue falls from its pedestal, face first, into the dirt below.
The crowd cheers as a heavy-set woman stomps on its head and spits. Others follow…
You take your wife’s hand and cross to the other side of the street.
“Maybe we’d better go home,” she says. “I don’t see the police anywhere.”
It’ll blow over, you say. No reason to ruin our night out. And sure enough, by the time you get to the restaurant, everything seems calm.
As you’re getting dessert, the restaurant owner comes out to say a few words in support of the protest – something about the necessity of turning our backs on history to move forward.
A number of diners clap in agreement. Your wife rolls her eyes. You ask for the check.
A moment later, the waiter is swiping your card. it’s not going through…
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