Panel 1: We
return to Rose's bizarre imagination. This time, Rose appears to be
some kind of resident of a fascist prison camp. She and a number of
other dishevelled people sit in rows, writing.
Narration Box:
Our sadistic slave-masters had set us yet another tedious,
pointless task. The consequences of failure were dire. Thus, we all
worked hard.
Panel 2:
Narration Box:
Yet concentration was difficult. The soldier's words to me kept
echoing in my mind. What had he meant when he called the old pedlar
woman my mother?
Panel 3: A guard with a truncheon walks by.
Narration Box:
Was it simply a catch-all insult? Or was there more to it? Try as I
might, I could not banish the problem from my mind and concentrate on
the task at hand.
Panel 4: Rose
is in her math classroom, taking an exam. Her fellow prisoners have
morphed into her classmates and the guard into her teacher.
Rose: I mean, seriously: my mom?
Teacher: I don't know if you've noticed, Rose, but this is an exam.
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