The other men sat around a table, cloaked in a cloud of smoke from cheap imported cigars, speaking in whispers of their plans for a revolution. Diego sat in the corner, sulking. He couldn’t be a part of it. He refused in every way because he thought it was stupid. A revolution. A plan to tear down the government led by his own brother.

And over what? So the government was having some supply issues. The main complaint was that they were having difficulties getting some aid to a particular refugee camp in the southern reaches of the country.

“Governments are machines, with lots of cogs,” Diego would tell the men. “Sometimes, it is difficult to get all the pieces working in harmony.” But they wouldn’t listen to him. They disagreed with Diego, and with his brother’s way of handling things.

Isn’t that pretty much how every resistance in history has started? With the single, simple act of disagreement? Could disagreement destroy a government? Destroy a family?

Could a simple disagreement destroy his brother?