Across the country, the radio plays. The top 100 songs play, seemingly on repeat. No one is listening for the music, however. On July 3rd, nobody listens to the radio for the music.

Your mother is in the kitchen with hash in the skillet. It smells as if it's burning, but no one seems to really notice. Your father tries to flip through the newspaper, but he's been stuck on page 3 a little too long. Your younger siblings are running around the room while your gran watches them wistfully. You find yourself wishing that your birthday hadn't passed yet. If it were only a couple weeks later...

You find yourself remembering hearing your mother talk about a time when July 3rd was merely the day before fireworks. Often, fireworks would already be firing off. Those times are long gone, however. They have been since before you were thought of.

Three years ago, July 3rd took your cousin. Five years ago, July 3rd took your mother's friend's daughter. Today, who knows who will fall victim to July 3rd. 

Classes teach that this day is meant to show pride. Pride in your country, your government, the history of both. Classes, however, are wrong. July 3rd never takes someone who means anything. July 3rd always takes someone who doesn't mean anything. It's accepted that July 3rd is never a day of random choice.

You find yourself wishing your birthday hadn't passed yet.

As if to remind you of your position in the country, the lights flicker. Your gran snaps, "You damn 'lectric, you got one job, so do it!" You jump in your spot on the floor, and your siblings look at you for a moment. They seem to register that you're upset, but they're too young to get it. You wish you were still that young.

The radio goes silent. The hash in the kitchen is completely burnt, but your mother doesn't care as she runs into the room. Your father throws down the paper, and you hear a slight tear. Your siblings walk in, noticing the tension in the room. 

Static. There's always static. It is perfect for increasing tension. 

The lights flicker, and you hear sobbing. Then, a name is announced.

A very familiar name.

Everyone is crying, even your younger siblings who don't understand. You just sit there in shock.

You sit there. You hear a car driving down the street as if it was waiting for your name to be called. You don't move. Even as the officials walk in the room, you don't move. You just think of how your birthday came at an inopportune time. You don't remember what comes next.

You wake up in a cell. You do not recall this as being part of the ceremony, but no one truly knows what happens to the lottery winners beforehand. You hear the news, and try to listen in. You hear a snippet. The lottery winner may not be able to participate in the festivities after allegedly... the news is shut off. A guard unlocks the cell door and says, "Very clever. You know very well you can't win this lottery if you're a criminal."

You look up, confused. "What happened?"

"No one knows. You're good with a knife, kid."