From the television came the word “clash.” Then “police operation.” Then “young man.” Marina did not look right away. She stretched out her hand, took the salt, poured a little more than she meant to into the water. Andreas, though, turned.

On the screen they were showing phone footage. Sirens. People shouting. A blurry stretch of pavement. A body covered up hastily. The reporter had that voice that tries to sound grave and ends up sounding like it is reading prices from a discount flyer.

“The same thing again,” Marina said.

Andreas stepped a little closer. “What happened?”

“What always happens? They’ll say something happened. That he resisted. That they were afraid. That they followed procedure. They have their words ready before the blood goes cold.”