The morning after Sandy Hook, I drove my boy to a birthday party. He was seven, same as some Sandy Hook kids.
“The flags aren’t up all the way,” he observed.
Texas wears a lot of Old Glory, now a constellation in mourning, flag after flag bowing low.
“It’s all the flags,” he said. “Why?”
“They do that sometimes, when people die.”
With birds-and-bees anxiety, I told him, finishing as we arrived.
Kids are more resilient than adults. Curiosity satisfied, he bounded out to join howling, playing friends. Around me, car windows trembled with their shouts and screams.
Graham Robert Scott teaches writing in north Texas. His stories have appeared in Nature, Barrelhouse Online, and 50-Word Stories.