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They were not talking to me. I knew the look in their eyes. I had seen it in Grandma Barbara’s eyes. Except she had never directed that look at us. We were white in Grandma’s eyes. Robert was not white in the police officers’ eyes. Robert, my twenty-year-old baby brother, had his hands clenched into fists. He called them, “Cowards.” I put my hands on his arms. “Robert, go back into the house.” “No, Jane.” He shrugged me off. “Your job is to protect people,” he said loudly. “That woman needs your help, and you’re asking me all these stupid questions.” I kept looking at Robert’s fists. “Cowards!” “Robert.” I pushed him away; I commanded him with my eyes. “Robert. Go. Into. The. House.” When I came inside, I heard his sobs through the walls of his bedroom. “Leave me alone, Jane.” He said it as if it was my fault. I climbed the ladder to the loft, where he lay, shaking. “Please, Rob?” As if the look in the officers’ eyes was my doing. “Rob?”

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2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

Profile for cusoa