[A few light peach flower petals drop down past the feed. Al's boot is swinging several feet above the edge of the fire escape. A crackling radio is playing the background, and every few notes another petal drops. Finally, a stem flutters to the ground. The boots clack to the metal, and the feed jumps, looking up at Al ( Read more... )

I hate lying.

They trust us. They're children. They keep getting all this conflicting information, and they're not going to trust us if we lie to them all the time.

It just isn't sitting well with me.

What am I supposed to say? Ginia trusts me, Ed trusts me, and it's breaking my heart.