"I'm glad we were able to come to an understanding," he said. "This is exactly the kind of nonsense the Ministry is not inclined to abide."
The leather in his uniform creaked and stretched as he shifted in his seat.
"You see, we like to consider the actions of the Ministry more as interventions than coercions. Encouragement. Guidance. Never so much force as to make our citizens feel manipulated, but just enough of a push to get them marching in the proper direction."
The steadiness of his voice began to disappear, slowly replaced with a trembling that betrayed his meticulously crafted image of self-control. 
"It is our duty to assist those living within the ranks and files of our society with their acclimation. They must all fall in line. You must fall in line. There is no alternative."

The feeling of ants crawling on your skin.

The bees don't sting as hard as they did last winter. 

Perhaps they've lost their will to protect. 

Autumn has come again and we bitterly watch the ice cover that once picturesque landscape. 

Sheets of white that turn the horizon into a sweeping gradient like some abstract expressionist painting. 

With grit teeth, trudging on, one foot after the other, onward. 

The compass spins, dancing around the letters. 

North. Please. North.