His eyes rolled back and went silver, knees bent, and he fell all the way to the floor.
“You’re going to give yourselves brain damage,” she said, “worse brain damage.” We were the free-lunch kids after all.
The next day there were four, and the next day five, laid out on the blue mat like battlefield dead.
I couldn’t eat the spaghetti. There were dead-looking bodies in the room.
He was more than asleep, more deeply gone than asleep.
“This isn’t our fault,” she said, her voice breaking. “It isn’t.”
Fantastic story! Thank you, Hope.
