before in the 6 years he’d worked at Jefferson.
He picked up his flashlight, walked to the boiler room door, and knocked twice.
Silence.
He knocked again.
“I’m not going to call anyone,” he said to the door.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay in there.
” Another silence.
Then the sound of movement.
Then the door opened.
Three boys stared back at him.
They were identical.
Same face, same eyes, dark brown, wide, exhausted, and terrified.
Same narrow shoulders drawn up toward their ears the way children do
