The Coup

Papers to read. There’s been a coup and we’ve woken up under the heel of a repressive fascist regime. I may be simplifying it or overstating it slightly of course.
At 2pm I nervously left home with my football scarf rolled in my pocket. If asked, I had a story ready: it was a present for my mate’s upcoming fiftieth. Astonishingly there were no troops or police out on the streets, but you could sense something wasn’t quite right. Just in the way you caught people’s eyes - scared to linger too long looking at them, I found that I’d looked away, perhaps too quickly. Shiftily, guiltily perhaps? Why was I worried anyway? I wasn’t out to cause trouble; I’ve no strong views either way.
And the game went ahead at 3pm as ever - our new Japanese guy was introduced with a great fanfare. He’ll be crocked within weeks.
Home via a couple of buses, which seemed to be running to the normal timetable. That’s not changed at least. I suppose we may just have to get used to living like this.