George ©
A mini story by Martha Cecilia Rivera.
The knee is now pressing into my neck at a different angle. It exerts more and more pressure. It cuts off my air. I attempt to raise my head, but, from inside the blue uniform, the stubborn knee immobilizes me. I still can’t breathe, so I open my mouth in search for a big breath. Nothing goes in. If I were white, by now my skin would look purple. However, my skin is black and that is not a color that easily shows lack of oxygen. ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe’, I scream again and again.