Even using back roads on Friday morning, Mr. Urbina still had to park a quarter-mile away. He scooped his son under his arm and began running, little Harry giggling at the game of it. “It’s utter fear,” he said. “Your heart stops. Your chest doesn’t move. I’m a dad. What can I do? I’m helpless.”
I’ve been awake for the past 10 hours, letting the details from our up to the second, imperfect, info-stream world sink in.
I feel empty. My brain is all wired right, I’m decently educated from a G8 country. My parents brought me up with soup and human decency when I was wee, including when I was between five and eight.
Still, I am lost and do not understand. I never will.