Devan

Holy shit. This is Justin Sheers.

I recognize him, but he obviously doesn’t recognize me.

“Hi, Justin,” I say, unwilling to give away my identity.

With his hands pushed down in the pockets of his jeans, I see the man my brother’s friend has become. His auburn hair is mussed—not short but not too long. His chiseled jaw is covered by a day’s or more beard growth showing red even by the light of the moon. ...