The man's eyes misted. His face went slack. "Then why'd you just backhand her?" People were streaming to and from getting hotdogs and beer from concessions.
The little woman had gone into shock and was against a wall, bent over looking like she was looking for something. She dabbed at the drops of blood from her split lip on the concrete and was trying to put them back into her lip. The other people from our never really parting as a unit caught up from the stadium seats.
"It's not about hate. It's not about hate." The technically "attacker" was with his arms blocking his face and blubbering. This made some of us see him as he had been, pulled from the bottom of a latrine-house with face so swollen from boot kicks and fist punching he didn't look like our friend or anyone but a captured "terrorist".
Oh my God
Oy vey
"We're a mess, but we'll catch up," a woman leader pecked a kiss onto the cheek of a newly with work "returned". "You sure?"
"I can't promise."
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