The Pig Truck
At dawn came the pig truck, driving itself in from over the hills.
By the time it reached the jail, the prisoners were lined up, resigned, watched by the armed guards in their towers.
Cleaned and shaved, naked and divested of names, they were human no longer.
Dust rose and fell as the long blank truck pulled up, the back springing open by itself, the ramp dropping to the ground.
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