The government stared at our faces. For we were not allowed to show emotion. They intimidated us, but our faces were content and emotionless. They moved away, welcoming us into their cavern—a small home built for the president.

Fear was a weakness, they claimed. For fear did not show that you were courageous. As soon as he had taken over he took his power to the next level. We were not allowed to show sadness. As a child we were forced to watch a sad movie—to determine if we were weak or not. If we did not cry nor whine, then we were set free and deemed worthy of being in society. The ones who did cry though were sent to a different country where emotion was accepted. Everyone knew that this was the correct way of life. How can it be correct? Emotion is natural, we shouldn’t have to hide it. 

The president was old, his fingers wrinkly. His hair was almost fully white and his skin was dry. His eyes drooped down, with long black marks extending down from them. He had been president for 18 years now. He did not show fear, he was ripped of any emotion at all. We had come to him to leave the country. In the most monotone voice, he simply said “never.” 

Then, walking down toward his door, he held it open for us. He didn’t say another word. We exited out the door, where we were faced with more government members who escorted us to our cars with no emotion.