The winding queue stretched on with no end in sight.
Amidst the dense, swirling sea of people, it was a matter of life and death, the agony of the impoverished, and the sorrow of the lower class.
At a spot in the line where they stood absolutely no chance of being seen unless the free clinic was extended, a few gray-haired, hunched figures stood waiting.
"It won't be my turn."
"Mine neither."
Even so, they didn't want to leave.
"Standing here can count as taking a break," one said.
Even though they were sleeping in the open, with absolutely no shelter to protect them from the plummeting night temperatures and the uncomfortable damp dew clinging to their faces, at least they weren't working. This was one of the few moments of rest in their entire lives. As for the suffering? They were already used to it.
