could I make a difference (would it matter?) 2k, T
The June air was sticky, sweat like a film on her skin, the back of her shirt clinging to her, the huge crowds only making the heat more oppressive. But she couldn’t really bring herself to care about the sunburn she knew would have her skin stinging the next day or the sweltering waves of heat rising off the pavement, not when being here was what mattered. Very few people would write about it, let alone write about it correctly, but somebody had to, even if it was just her for her small paper. Now more than ever, this mattered. An ache spread through her chest, stabbing and heavy, as her gaze slid across the people around her, the men being partially held up by their friends, the number of gaunt faces that felt like it had doubled since the year before.
People were dying. People she knew, people she didn’t, people maybe she would have if anyone actually bothered to pay attention or care that a disease was tearing its way through people, neighborhoods, everything. People were dying and the President had yet to even acknowledge that anything was even happening. --- CJ and Sam meet far earlier, both of them just wanting the government to care people are dying
Written for the @twwpride prompt "Press and Media"
