You decide that you really, really don’t want to die. Your father is a little disappointed at your cowardice, but you know that there’s no way that you would be able to survive as a footsoldier. Your mother is, as she always has been, supportive, but also worried about the danger of you leaving. She suggested them both going with you, but that was when you were going to Canada, and your parents are just the slightest bit racist. They give you what money they can spare, which isn’t too much but will hopefully be enough to at least settle you somewhere in Mexico City.
The day before you’re supposed to be reporting in for the draft, you grab your wallet, pull your parents in for a hug, and thank them for all that they’ve done for you. You have no clue when you’ll be able to see them next, and fear that keeping communication with them wouldn’t be the best thing for them. You tell them that you’ll try to keep in touch, and leave your childhood home before your mother can start to cry. You have to walk a few miles to get to the greyhound station, but you know that there will be worse ahead.
You walk, minding your own business, crossing an intersection when you hear an ear-shattering crash. A collision at the intersection causes one car to fly toward you, and you're crushed.
The day before you’re supposed to be reporting in for the draft, you grab your wallet, pull your parents in for a hug, and thank them for all that they’ve done for you. You have no clue when you’ll be able to see them next, and fear that keeping communication with them wouldn’t be the best thing for them. You tell them that you’ll try to keep in touch, and leave your childhood home before your mother can start to cry. You have to walk a few miles to get to the greyhound station, but you know that there will be worse ahead.
You walk, minding your own business, crossing an intersection when you hear an ear-shattering crash. A collision at the intersection causes one car to fly toward you, and you're crushed.