I am saddened to tears over the news coming out of Boston. There were two bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.
I told my husband what happened and he said, "How is that any different than a kid stepping on a landmine in Cambodia?"
Well, it isn't, I guess. How does that make it any less sad?
"There are three dead," I read.
"Well, that's not that bad then."
At this point I told him to stop talking to me. I know he has seen horrible things. I know he is immune to this kind of horror, but I cannot listen to his apathy in the face of horror.
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