War - A Record Of Delia's

Today she made it. Yesterday she didn’t try. The day before, a man was shot in that same five-minute window. But he was running, not crawling. Lin crawls. She wears grey. She moves like water.

I am not brave. I am just here. And I have a pen. a record of delia's war

Note to self: Speed is not survival. Timing is survival.” “I stole bread today. From an old woman’s cellar. She wasn’t there—maybe dead, maybe fled. I left three cans of beans in exchange, but that’s not the point. The point is: I have become someone who takes. Today she made it

Delia’s war is not glory. Delia’s war is carrying a child through a city that wants her dead.” “Lin is gone. Not dead—I don’t think. Taken. A Bloc patrol kicked in our hideout door at 4 AM. They wanted the radio. Lin threw it out the window before they could grab it. Smashed on the pavement. But they didn’t know that. But he was running, not crawling

I will put this ledger in a metal box. I will bury it under the oak tree behind the ruined library. Maybe someone digs it up. Maybe no one does.