and it was not until Anders took out his phone, a phone he hated in that moment, hating its profanity, the falseness of the distancing it committed against what felt like a sacred immediacy, it was not until he held that slab of glass and metal and its screen lit up and he sought to operate it one-handedly, or one-thumbedly, really, that he started to cry, and he wept so hard and so loud that it surprised him, and made him want to shush himself,
