The park today was just old men arguing about politics and young couples pretending not to smoke pot near the lotus pond. I sat by the east path with my thermos — dark, sweet coffee, the kind that makes your heart strong and your decisions harder. One man said Vietnam should join the Americans against China. Another laughed like he’d just heard a child claim the moon was made of fish sauce. I watched a boy feed bread to the ducks, his grandmother pulling the bag from his hands like hunger was still on every corner. We’ve buried too many for this peace to turn foolish. The ducks eat what they’re given, but we remember what we owe.
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