On the top-right corner of every single form, they stamped a red seal.
"ACTION SUPERVISED BY THE MAYOR'S OFFICE"
The red ink seeped into my fibers, like a medal pinned on a soldier before he marches off to war.
"Listen up," Sarah told the people around her. "We're going through official channels. Go to the window, register them, and get a receipt for every single one. If they refuse to take them, record it."
Clutching us in their arms, they walked into the service hall.
The clerks inside were stunned.
They were used to slowly processing a few, maybe a dozen, applications a day.
But now, placed before them, were four thousand.
"Wh-what is this?" the heavyset woman behind the counter stammered.
"This is the voice of the citizens." Sarah slammed the top stack—which included me—down on the counter. "You have now received the hazardous condition notifications. Please sign for them."
The woman mechanically stamped and signed, her hands trembling.
