Chapter 7 - The Silence of the Elite
Around them, the restaurant had gone entirely dead. The string quartet in the corner had stopped playing, their instruments resting idly as the musicians stared at the tableau at table four. The rich patrons who prided themselves on never noticing the suffering outside their glass windows were now forced to look directly at the collateral damage of a gilded cage.
Thomas stood motionless, wiping his cheek with the back of his small hand. He didn't feel triumphant. He only felt an immense, crushing exhaustion that children should never have to bear. He looked back down at the plate of spaghetti, watching the other boy finally pick up a fork with shaking, battered fingers.
