20 The Answer

“Nightmare?”

“Sweet dream.”

“Dreamed of my mom again?”

“Yes, the best dream,” Ben stressed his words.

It was the day of the relocation, of knowing the truth (?), of whatever the shit would happen.

On the bottom floor of the dormitory was the hall, where the health check-up clinic booth had been organized last time. On this day, the space was open wide. One metal gate stood in front of them. Curious, of course, they were. The line of people was horizontal, ordered by the date of arrival. They were unsettling and anxious.