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Even General Hofstader looked gloomy. His uniform 409 was crisp, his ribbons shone in the darkness of the limousine. But his face was gray, creased, shrinking into premature old age from the tensions that he was forced to endure.
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You looked up at her, then stood and carefully emptied the pieces you had gathered on to the tall bed. You took the nurse's other hand as she led you and pulled me to the door, her apologies unheard over Mother's gasping screams.
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'Your defense of the people was to plunge them into war. You would condemn thousands to die, to assuage your dread that someone other than yourself would rule.