Chapter 7 - The Calculus of Standing
The silence that followed was absolute.
The boy’s logic hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.
It stripped the situation of its complex social boundaries.
It left only the raw, ugly truth of a giant stepping on the weak.
The older man with the silver hair stopped tracing the napkin.
He looked down at his grandson.
He looked at the broken plastic dinosaur.
Then, he looked up at the heavy-set man in the grey suit.
The older man’s face was carved from granite.
Deep lines bracketed his mouth, completely devoid of fear or hesitation.
He placed the linen napkin carefully onto the table.
He placed his hands flat on the white tablecloth.
He pushed his chair back.
It did not screech. It slid smoothly, deliberately.
He stood up.
He was tall, his posture violently straight despite his age.
He didn't say a word.
He simply buttoned his charcoal suit jacket.
He locked eyes with the man in the grey suit.
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The older man's stare was freezing. It was a physical weight pressing against the room.
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