She had picked it up from the news outlet a couple stores away, the last copy they had, which they took out of the window for her.
I thumbed through it in fascination. It was bigger and thicker than I had thought it would be, with a great many cartoons (no photos) but also quite a few articles and regular columns. I was surprised at the number of cartoons. I had thought that those religious psychopaths who slaughtered the staff like cattle had managed to eliminate most of the artists. Well, not quite, thankfully. The magazine sure did a big job on this quickly-put-together issue. They must have had freelance cartoonists who filled in, and maybe some cartoons had been drawn earlier.
I had read that this new printing of three million was going to be in multiple languages, but this copy was French. Maybe it came via Quebec. At any rate, as I browsed through it, I wanted to get a French/English dictionary and pick up the language where I had left off back in grade 9. Because I could only read a word here and there.
One cartoon had a bland-looking middle-aged guy holding up a sign that said "Je suis Charlie Hebdo, mais..." I am Charlie Hebdo, but...
No buts here.