Next afternoon. There are things on the news about a bombing at the marathon. He is in a class. The class has stopped. 2:49 PM. They all talk about the tragedy. He doesn’t waste his words. Silent.
“Did you know anyone at the race?” someone next to him asks.
“Someone’s brother,” he says.
“Someone you know’s brother?”
“No, just someone’s brother,” Silas says. The carpet is purple, or something like that.
Nihilistic Porcupine 