The Institute

by Stephen King

“Trump and his cronies took it all back. They understand culture no more than a donkey understands algebra.”

He was touched and surprised—not for the first time—by the ordinary kindness and generosity of ordinary folks, especially those without much to spare. America was still a good place, no matter how much some (including himself, from time to time) might disagree.

Around and around it went, and what was round had no point, any fool knew that.

“You know, Jamieson, this life we think we’re living isn’t real. It’s just a shadow play, and I for one will be glad when the lights go out on it. In the dark, all the shadows disappear.”

He was only twelve, and understood that his experience of the world was limited, but one thing he was quite sure of: when someone said trust me, they were usually lying through their teeth.

It was so simple, but it was a revelation: what you did for yourself was what gave you the power.

“You survived. You used your love and your wits, and you survived. Now let’s have some cake.”