nothing. Then, with wet hair and my shirt sticking to my back, I sat down and went back to writing. I had the two ten-year-olds walking around in the forest. They were scared of meeting foxes and had cap guns in their hands to frighten them away if they showed up. Suddenly they heard a shot. They ran over to where the sound had come from and saw a garbage dump in the middle of the forest. There were two men lying on the ground shooting at rats. That’s when something seemed to flash through me, an arc of happiness and energy; now I couldn’t write fast enough, the text lagged slightly behind the
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