Chapter 10 - The Last Word
Later that evening, after the crowds had cleared and the auditorium lights had dimmed to a soft, amber glow, I walked back down to the lobby alone.
The building was quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn't feel empty, but settled.
I knelt down on the limestone floor right where I had sat a year ago, running my fingers across the smooth, matte-finished stone. There was no trace of the terror, the panic, or the screaming that had once filled this space. Just a clean, open floor designed to let people breathe, think, and exist without having to shout just to be heard.
My cell phone vibrated in my jacket pocket.
I pulled it out and checked the screen.
Sunday, 7:15 PM.
I slid the answer button and held the phone to my ear.
"Hey, Dad," Danny’s voice said, steady and bright. "Did you remember to check the locks on your office door before you left?"
"Checked 'em twice, Dan," I said, smiling out through the glass doors at the quiet Chicago streetlights stretching out into the night. "Everything is locked down tight."
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"Good," my son said with a tone of quiet satisfaction. "Because tomorrow is a brand-new day."
"Sure is," I whispered. "Sure is."
