That’s what I saw when I looked back, and that’s what I did nothing about.
Four rows back, on the end, by himself. Nobody beside him on either side, in a room where every other seat was filled, which tells you something about the eleven minutes before that service started.
And his hands were clasped together in his lap and I could see from fifteen feet away that he was gripping them.
I saw a terrified kid and I read it as guilt.
I want to say that plainly because it’s the most honest sentence in this entire story. I looked directly at a visibly frightened child and my grief took that information and converted it into he knows he’s done something wrong.
Daniel saw him a couple of minutes later and that’s when he started to stand up.
“What is he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
