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ON A WEDNESDAY morning a little more than 30 years ago, before his mother left for work in downtown Oklahoma City, a boy named Kyle Genzer told her he loved her.
It was a sunny, cloudless day. "Like today," he says.
He tilts his head and looks toward the sky. She was in a hurry. He thought he'd see her later that day, after school. He wishes he'd hugged her, he says.
At 9:02 a.m., as he sat in his eighth-grade class at Wellston Middle School, about 40 miles east of Oklahoma City, Genzer felt the school shake and the windows rattle.