Why. I like it more

 “Why? I like it more than the truck). €::r:hanswering IIIY question. Pa bought the gone into with friends The bus: Import/export bllsmess he had briefly been Sitting in our back ans fopess never got going, so the truck has creaks and Squeaks as Khou yth many months‘ The .old pickup truck Pa ties a large white cloth tdth rows a cloth -bag Onto its floor" In from’ to the side mirrors With 6 antenna while Ming Hes another piece  ' out ‘ml’ Words, Khouy picks me up and loads me Onto the back of the truck filled with bags of clothes and pots and P3115 and food-The fest Of my siblings climb on board and we drive off.  The streets of Phnom Penh are noisier than ever. Meng, Keav, Kim, Chou, and I sit in the back of the truck while Pa drives with Ma and Geak in the Cab Kh°uY f0110WS us slowly on his motorcycle. From up on our truck, we hear the booming roars of cars, trucks, and motorcy- cles, the jarring rings of the cyclos’ bells, the clanking of pots and pans banging against each other, and the cries of people all around us.We are not the only family leaving the city. People pour out of their homes and into the streets, moving very slowly out of Phnom Penh. Like us,  some are lucky and ride away in some kind of vehicle; however, many  leave on foot, their sandals flapping against the soles of their feet with  every step. Our truck inches on in the streets, all people scream their good-byes to those who choose  eir eyes. Little children cry for their r noses into their open mouths. ll the wagons faster. gs on their backs  owing us a safe view of the  scene. Everywhere, to stay behind; tears pour from th mothers, snot dripping from thei Farmers harshly whip their cows and oxen to pu Women and men carry their belongings in cloth ba and their heads.They walk with short, brisk steps, yelling for their kids r, to hold each other’s hands, to not get left behind. I  to stay togethe oves in hurried confu-  squeeze my body closer to Keav as the world m  sion from the city. The soldiers are everywhere. There are so many 0 orns, no longer smiling as I saw them before.  angry words at us while cradling rifles in their  f them around,  yelling into their bullh Now they shout loud, arms.They holler for the people to close their shops, to gather all guns  and weapons, to surrender the weapons to them.They scream at fafnjlieg 


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