Pressure Cooker

Deon lay exhausted on his single sized bed looking up at the ceiling in his make shift room from a janitor's closet. The sweat and the smell of smoke diffuses though his pores. The horrors of the night rattle in his brain as the sound of firetrucks, police cars and ambulances, breaking glass, explosions, car alarms, gunfire, looting, screaming voices of protesters, the profane sounds of anguish and pain and death, echo through the night. How did this all come to be? How it is that people who would otherwise hug and  high five one another after a homerun, a jump shot, or a touchdown could be  at each other's throats? How could it be that this demonstrable hate for one another always persisted but hid itself, cloaked in a façade of superficial equality and civility as people appear to go along happily in their great American lives? Could this division be stoked by those who have invested interest, like so many media host and politicians and could it be that this divisiveness lay dormant in the soul of society like a bear in hibernation, but now is awaken and hungry, ready to devour whatever is edible to feed its bigotry and hate. Is it just one incident or a culmination or accumulation and scaffolding of injustices thatbrings forth such hate and derision? How did we get here thought Deon as he lay in retrospect while continuing to stare at the ceiling. How did I get here...?