“Thanks.”
They drove a while in silence. Carl tuned his car radio to some conservative talk show but punched it off as soon as the host mentioned the riot at the courthouse. So far, Kennedy had resisted the morbid urge to look up footage from the event. She didn’t know how much damage had been done, but the streets seemed relatively calm for the middle of a Saturday. Were people staying home? Did the police think the riots would get worse?
Carl pulled his Honda up to a curb near Harvard Square. “See you at church tomorrow?”
“If I get this lab report done by then,” Kennedy answered. She slung her new canvas bag laden with leftovers on her shoulder, waved goodbye, and shut the door. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to glance at the time as Carl pulled away. If she hurried, she might
