Steve handed the note to Bridget, not knowing of she would ever look at it. He hoped she would. She took it from him, not looking at him at all. To be fair,it was dangerous these days to pay to much attention to your fellows, it attracted the Regimes attention. Workers were to look forward, get to their destinations, do their work, and return to their quarters. Talk only about approved topics; work, supplies, the weather. It had been like this for their entire lives, but there were rumors of a different life. True, people didn’t bring up these rumors often.

Bridget walked in the other direction, and Steve paused for a brief second to watch her go. Just a second, that was all he risked. He turned, and headed to his job in processing. He thought about the note. Paper was expensive, the masses were forbidden to have it. Only sold on the dark market, it had cost Steve a week’s work of potato rations. He hoped it was worth it.

Arriving at his assigned cube, he began his work. Same thing day in and day out, so he did this without thinking about it. He thought about Bridget. They had met on the street, he dropped his hat, she handed it to him. Nothing crazy, but a small interaction. Something in her eyes let him know she was like him, not settling for this world. But they never had a chance to speak.

Bridget arrived at her assigned destination. She was late, the quick interaction with Steve and delayed her. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but she appeared to be in the clear. She braved a look at the note, it was a drawing of...a cat? She though that was what the creature was called. It was not realistic, but sweet, smiling. She smiled to herself, and hid the note in her pocket. She should destroy it, erase the evidence of owning paper, of showing creativity, of interaction. But she wouldn’t. A little act of rebellion.

She didn’t see Steve on her way home, that was unusual. Nor did she see him again. She wondered if he was caught, and she grieved his loss, and felt a stab of guilt she was the cause. That risk of the note.

Time went on as it does, and soon Bridget pushed Steve’s memory away. She didn’t verve from her role, her “purpose” in this life.

But she kept the cat drawing. Her little act of rebellion.