Wyatt told me once that if tenderness were a disease, I’d be terminal.
We bumped into other silent lines of kids going in the same direction. We looked like we were much younger and our lines were headed to the cafeteria or recess or the carpool line. Or it could’ve been a fire drill. Except for the stone-faced police...
I could’ve gone on and on but the truth was all that mattered. “My brother died because someone was jealous.
