Explore "Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party" by Ying Chang Compestine on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The rain had stopped, and the sun glared through wide sycamore leaves. The air was hot and humid.
I didn't want to go home. Mother would already be back from her night shift. Wandering down Big Liberation Road-the main road of the city-I thought about all the wrongs done to me.