"We're leaning on each other," says Brandon. A white lie, a white pillow on the couch where he's sleeping. Carrie is silent in bed.
At the station, to the paramedics, Brandon says, "Thank you for trying." They pat his back, grip his shoulder.
Returning home, he finds the mailbox choked up over Luke, full of white cards with thoughts, prayers, teddy bears, and balloons floating to heaven.
Brandon hurls the mailbox, the sentiments into the street.
A white car brakes hard, and the driver yells,"What the hell?"