In the library. Listen to me. I can't read the headlines. Look at the picture. In the face of Charlie Williams, the kid-killer, his head brushing the shoulder of the uniformed cop in the backdrop, you can picture the blinking eyes of babyhood, the pug nose, the bundle of hopes.
All bets are off now.
You wake up in the morning with either the highest of expectations or sick to your stomach with utter dread, nothing in between. The endless self-examination in the bathroom mirror. The huge crush. The homecoming game. Parents out of town.