Sixteen

“I knew it would be the last time that I would see him.”

The words floated for a second in the middle of the table before clattering amongst the remains of dinner. Nobody really said anything, Art half cleared his throat but Mel’s hand on his stopped whatever pretentious monologue he was planning. Tess stared at a spot in front of the gravy boat, she didn’t have to say anything else. Mel gave a pleading look to Nathan but he was too far gone, they could only sit in the heavy silence.

“I wonder how he would have taken this whole ordeal.”

Tess looked up, continuing to speak to the air.

“I expect he would have hated it, another victory for the wealthy… us I suppose.”

Nathan picked up his whisky and took angered strides to the window. Below the streets were ablaze, a stolen firetruck circled the gardens to the north inciting more rioters to surge forth.

“He was correct about her, about the da-”

Cut crystal exploded on the doorframe. Mel sank further into her seat, Art picked up a roll and started to butter it. Tess moved to collect the fragments of glass. Nathan watched, shaking from his outburst.

“Yes, Tess. Paul was correct. And now he’s dead.”