Ten.
Ten.
It isn’t a big number. We typically buy more than ten eggs at one time. Ten isn’t enough people to field a football team or to fill up one quarter of the seats on a bus.
But, sometimes, ten is a very big number.
Ten is the number of people from my town who went off to work six years ago today, only to be slaughtered by Islamic barbarians.
I will never forgive the savages for what they did on that day, and I will damned sure never forget.
