Three people were talking about life and death. The florescent room hummed with indignation, Saying, "What do you know of hardship? Here you stand, consequence dismissed!" Wind whistled through an open window. One claims to be the sort who, With heroism of old, would rush Into danger headlong; mortal peril is a small thing. He brags, "I would not watch my brother die," But he does not have a brother. Only ideas. Another chimes in, "I would keep my feet planted Like a solid tree in the ground; my life And my children are infinitely valuable! A stranger to my home is not." The air conditioning sputtered contempt. And the last slumps her shoulders, Outsourcing decision to context: "If I were on the table or my child, save My baby. Unless I am already a mother." She is confident, but the lights flicker.