Len stood lazily against the metal frame of the bus stop when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. The man answered quickly, without looking at the caller ID, and discovered it was his wife. He greeted her, asked what was wrong, but before he could finish, Len's beloved wife burst into tears. She stammered out her news, barely inserting audible words between obnoxious sobs and whimpers. Len immediately hung up. A strong gust of wind was caused and dried the tears that had begun to form in his eyes. The clouds hung low around the station, the skies threatening to open up and fall on the residents of Greenfield at any moment. And just as the first drops began to fall, several tears rolled down her cheeks. It wasn't long before his clothes were soaked, ruined, and freezing cold from the drop in temperature. People crowded under the shelter of the awnings of neighboring buildings, but Len didn't bother to drag his thin frame under the protection of the bus shelter. The buses came and went, and Len stood there, in the pouring rain, his hands trembling, soaked from the October cold.* * *Milo took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lit it with his yellow Bic lighter and took a long drag. Narrowing his eyes, he blew smoke out of his mouth with an expertise an eighteen year old shouldn't have. He turned his head to the left and saw an older man leaning against the frame of the bus shelter. He watched with disinterest as the man answered his phone, an old cell phone that must have been six or seven years old. Milo's eyes narrowed as he, a man who found a strange pleasure in listening to the conversations of others, strained his ears and leaned forward, trying to understand what the man was saying. He heard... middle of paper... is that his father, the big loser, had attacked his mother (“how could you let our son do that to himself?” and “c "It's your fucking fault, Candice!" as she threw her own harsh, irreplaceable words at him, all with a little white hot stick protruding from her gloss-coated lips. It was frightening for him to watch the drama unfold, and without an ounce of alcohol. Everything was raw, intact, unchanged. Honestly, it was scary. They ate together, slept together, the norm. They discussed what would happen that weekend when the vigil would take place, usually during meals. But in the meantime it was a disaster. He couldn't stand it, so he spent his time at Milo's house. The two spent most of the time in Milo's room, listening to old Nirvana albums, sometimes talking, sometimes sleeping, but mostly lying on his bed and tracing pictures on the older boy's popcorn ceiling...