The government is undeniably fitting for the country. We are capable of reviving ourselves from the Great Depression and we are becoming self-sufficient. We are able to conquer vasts amounts of territory, and we are recognizable as the greatest Asian Province, for the Western powers praise our names. They are guaranteeing a future of opportunity and progress for our nation. Education is important in combination with physical training for the children. Promises are fulfilled and that's what the people believe. Yet I don’t believe them; we are broken. The door closes with a soft swish. I turn to the window and watch out the tinted glass and begin to wonder what they will poison my son’s mind with today. Touching the window, I feel helpless in this land of empty promises. My son begins to run with other children in excitement for school; they are young and ignorant to the evils of the government. My husband is just as ignorant as him. He believes that the emperor is changing Japan and that we are just as triumphant as the Samurai time. Standing alone watching out the glass, I wait for my son and husband to return after another endless day of waiting for change in the nation to take place. 

 

“Peace, land, bread!” 

“Boris you’ll get bread soon, five people until we’re next”

 My son and I had been waiting for five hours, when suddenly a feeble woman scurried up to me. As she pinched my boney arm, I recognized my sister Olga. I hadn’t seen her since our father had died; leaving our family starving without the income from the factory he worked at. My family was exhausted with war, and after his death, Olga left for the city, hoping that socialism would bring better times. We were at the front of the line now, Boris and I holding out our frail fingers for rolls of rye bread.

 “The reds will win!” Olga declared, a newspaper trembling between her fingers. Immediately my hand shot over her mouth, as I knew one couldn’t blurt this out. My glance darted around, as the man before us pivoted, his eyes aligning with Olga’s.

“The reds are just bloody whites,” he grunted, clenching his fists.

“Prove it” Olga uttered, spitting into his face. As I wrenched her away, heads turned and soon the whole line was brawling. Grasping the bread tightly in my fist, Olga and I squirmed out of the crowd. Expecting Boris to be behind me, I turned around and saw him petrified inside the crowd. As I rushed into the mob, people jostled me back and forth and grabbing Boris, a man struck my shoulder. A shock electrified my arm and Boris screamed as the bread fell out of my grasp.