My hours were 7-6, five days a week, but Mother -- Mrs. Thomas, to me --had the right to alter my schedule for special events.My neighbors were all bl...ck. The shopkeepers in my part of town wereall black. The men who jammed into the nightclubs were all black. Itwas as if I had been dropped into a different world, a world wherepolicemen couldn't be trusted and the rules were for the white people.Which didn't include me.As I moved around the grocery stores of my neighborhood, talkingcasually to. “You could buy a small town with that armor.”“Because I don’t need the money, and it feels like a waste to keep it just for the sake of keeping it. On my farm, everything had a purpose. Every tool, table, or animal I owned had a specific reason and use. The armor can’t shrink enough to fit me, making it worthless as anything more than a souvenir. I would rather it go to someone who can put it to good use.”Falma looked around the shelter, “Can’t say I’m surprised you’ve got that kinda money,”. More

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