Within minutes, the gatherings began. In bars across the city, people crowded in for a drink, for company, and to watch the horror replay on television screens.
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For much of the afternoon, after the explosions rocked the city, the bar inside The Gallows in the South End was full, but silent. People came in, sat down, and stared at the television coverage of the explosions.
"No one said anything," said assistant manager Kathy Chang, "because no one knew what to say."
But as night fell, the mood in the city shifted, shock gave way to solace, and bars and restaurants filled up with people who just wanted to talk, to be around others, to reflect on the horror of this Marathon Monday.
"It's human nature to want to get together and talk," said Patty Ma, who had come to The Gallows with friends who had run the marathon.
"We should be celebrating their accomplishment, but instead we're just trying to process."
All over the city, watering holes became a refuge, a place where Bostonians and marathon visitors could come together to make sense of an attack that bloodied the city on one of its proudest days.
Kevin Long, 30, of Boston, finished running the marathon about eight minutes before the explosion.
Mr Long was at The Gallows with his friend Jonathan Lashley, who had been standing on Boylston Street, trying to catch a glimpse of Mr Long, when he found himself caught between the two explosions. He ran to the Charles River, shaking and nauseous. Hours later, his ears were still ringing.
They had planned to meet up for a celebratory drink, but both men said that felt wrong. The entire day felt wrong.
New York Times
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