Sitting at a table, listening to music while we waited for folks to be ready to have class, we talked. He’s going to trial for manslaughter. I asked him how he felt about what happened and he went back to the consequences, to the prison math of 10 months making a year and time served and parole. So I asked him again: but how do you feel about what happened? He paused and I bit my finger until it bled, a common thing. He got up and went to get a bandaid for me (out of his stash. The generosity of sharing when they have so little always blows my mind) and when he came back he applied it gently to my bleeding finger while he told me how he felt. He talked about his pain for the people he hurt, and will hurt by being away, while caring for mine.