Peace. Into the night, the children smile. Their voices rise above the steady whir of bounce-house fans and the deep, incurable pain that is not as easily detectable here, though its presence is undeniable. Like the water that ripples in soft waves at a nearby park fountain.
Like the mothers of murdered sons and daughters who don “Purpose Over Pain” T-shirts — decades of grief shared between them. Like the enthusiasm of Khalil White, 18, who bubbles with excitement over his new job — his future as bright as his infectious smile.
