Abstract
War Story At the garbage dump the air fills with flies, you hear the droning sigh above the truck's motor, the cries of children fighting for scraps of food, tin cans, shreds of clothing. Jenkins laughs, pushes the fifty-gallon drum over the tailgate. The children shout, surge toward us. Watch this, he says, tipping the other drum on its side. it splashes down, covers them in coffee grounds, stale bread, egg shells.
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