HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY
At first, he cried wolf because he was bored, needed attention, or behsps both reasons.
The hills answered him faithfully. The sound carried. The villagers came running. Breathless. Furious. Relieved.
The second time, he cried wolf because he liked the power.
There was something intoxicating about watching grown men drop their tools. Watching women leave their ovens. Watching urgency move at his command. Fear, he learned, was leverage.
By the fifth time, he didn’t even need a reason.
The word wolf was enough.