A piece of paper floated on the breeze down the street towards its salvation. Derek was walking out of his front door when the paper collided with his leg, sticking to the denim and soaking the material. He tried to kick it free, but after several unsuccessful attempts, he was forced to bend down and separate it from his jeans by hand. He was about to discard the paper, letting it continue its effortless flight, but something caught his eye. Lines and squiggles were printed over images, underlining numbers and ending in weird symbols.

Derek turned the paper around in his hands, first left, then right. First, stopping at half a turn, then turning it full circle to view it from every position. "What the fuck?", he muttered. He stepped back inside. "Daaaaaad", he shouted from the hallway, "come look at this".

David, Derek's dad was sixty years old and went to university before they were outlawed. He constantly felt like he had wasted his life and, yet, that it wasn't his fault either. He came down the stairs holding the bannister and took care on each step. His slippers slapped his heels with each one. "What do you want, Derek?" he asked once he reached the bottom.

"Look at this", Derek said, thrusting the piece of paper into his father's hands.

His father pulled out his glasses from his dressing gown pocket and opened the arms with his mouth before struggling to put them on. He looked down his nose at the paper. His eyes opened wide, and his mouth moved without making a sound. "Where did you get this?" he said, pushing the paper into the pocket of his gown.

"It was flying down the street", Derek said, pointing at the door.

"Get inside now!", David barked at his son. "Did anyone see you?"

Derek shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't see anyone", he said. "What's going on dad, what is that?"

David led his son into the back room, away from the street and any potential passerby who felt a tinge of curiosity. He crouched below the window and forced his son to do the same. Derek sighed but did as he was told.

"These, my boy, are words", David whispered to Derek. "And they're trying to start a fucking revolution", he continued as a smile grew under his thick grey moustache.