It Always Starts with One

He turned off the news and threw the remote angrily onto the couch.

“This world is going to shit,” he said bluntly. And the truth was I had been thinking much the same way. Although I don’t think I would have put it like that.

“It’s sad,” I said, “But in fifty years it’ll be our kids who’ll be stuck cleaning up this mess.”

He looked whistfully out the window.

“People just don’t care…,” he said, half to himself.

“Some do.”

“Really? And who would that be?” his eyes narrowed. And angry edge was creeping into his voice.

“I care. You care.”

He shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

I was silent for a long moment, studying his face. “Of course it’s enough,” I said. “Don’t you understand? It always starts with one.”

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