HiveComb

We sit in the Hall waiting for the Proclamation of the Day.

I am nervous and shuffle in my seat.

Mary, sitting next to me, is as still as the Old Pond on a windless day. She sits upright, staring straight ahead of her at the stage. Her hands sit in her lap. Her face shows no emotion.

She is as nervous as I am.

I reach for one of her hands and give it a gentle squeeze. She flinches but doesn't withdraw her hand.

There is the usual buzz in the Hall. People wondering what He will Proclaim today. Yesterday, like the day before that, and the day before that, His Proclamation was terrifying.

The others are probably as nervous as I am, but the buzz sounds excited rather than scared.

Perhaps the others don't feel scared.

Perhaps they are not worried they might be singled out by The Proclamation.

But I fear it.

Every day I hold my breath.

...