He's been in his room since it happened. Quiet. Contemplative. 'Cause where does anyone go from here? There's an End, and then there's a life past that. But it only ever really feeds into that End, 'cause there's a photograph he ain't looked at since he first saw it. Faces scratched out.
voice
He's been in his room since it happened. Quiet. Contemplative. 'Cause where does anyone go from here? There's an End, and then there's a life past that. But it only ever really feeds into that End, 'cause there's a photograph he ain't looked at since he first saw it. Faces scratched out.
They'd seemed - they'd looked beyond remorseful.
So what now?]
I heard.
[So what is he supposed to do.]
I'm sorry, kid.