I SAW FRED LAST NIGHT

“Fred?” I shouted when I reached the sidewalk.

He did not turn back. He slipped into the crowd with that sharp, precise stride, his hands in his pockets, and that air of superiority I already knew. Of course he would not stop for me. Fred Hunt was dead.

I stopped instantly. Someone bumped into me. Two others dodged around me. I pressed a hand to my chest and felt the pain flare harder. And no—this time it was not rejection. I felt as if Fred was gone… for ...