Uprooted

I’m not stupid, nor a liar,” I said, “and if I can’t do any good, I can at least do something

They all had stories. They had mothers or fathers, sisters or lovers. They weren't alone in the world, mattering to no one but themselves. It seemed utterly wrong to treat them like pennies in a purse. I felt the soldiers understood perfectly well that we were making sums out of them-- this many safe to spend, this number too high, as if each one wasn't a whole man.

And I wasn’t old enough to be wise, so I loved her more, not less, because I knew she would be taken from me soon.