Then, grinning, he made his way back towards the white suits who looked like they’d decided they were wasting their time here.
As the small convoy of vehicles drove away, they passed a shattered statue of the country’s late leader. The head was dented, the nose knocked off, but the features were still recognizable. And those eyes, which had once gazed down upon his people with such menacing benevolence, now stared sightlessly from ground level across the ruins into the desert where, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretched far away.
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Good Morning, Midnight dap-21 Page 42
