Protester

Gil sat on a milk crate in front of the psychiatric hospital.

“Excuse me, sir, can you please move?” said a voice behind him.

“Nope,” Gil replied without turning.

“Sir, please, can you – ”

“I gotta right to be here. Can’t kick me out.”

“No, but – ”

“I’ll stop protestin’ when they stop their nonsense,” Gil said, holding up his sign reading, “CLOSE THE HOZPITAL”.

“Why do you want it – ”

“Not talkin’ no more,” Gil said. “Go away. Tell ’em to stop their hoity-toity crap.”

The voice behind Gil sighed. A moment later, he heard footsteps walking away.

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