The sound of people drinking could be heard, a red blushed man sat at the round table, two others accompany him nearby. Sitting and drinking with him as they talk. A fist slams on the table, the cups shake. A look of belligerent fever glows, his face red from both drinking and anger. “They can’t do this to us” he says to them, “It’s the 3rd time this year they have raised them” he utters, anger clearly present now. The look of the others are no calmer, clearly their own angers to be had now. The ones they were talking about unsaid, they needed no name, the men knew too well.

A second thud hits the table, second. The second man to his right stands upright. “We can’t just sit around and do nothing, they think of us as sheep and weak cattle!” he says with righteous indignation bright. As if to oppose the heavens themselves, he raises a fist high now. “Damn it all, damn it all to hellfire” he scours.

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The third man, just siting there silently. “What can we do?” he ask, his knuckles white. “Can we even change anything being weak? ‘Don’t have power, they look down on us” he says, calmer than the rest but angered.

The second falls back into his old seat. “We’ll wait, till someone else does something soon…”

“It can’t stay this way for long now can it? Surely someone else will do something soon…? It’s not just us that feel this way i’m sure…”