I got to the house about four PM on the second day of November. The Halloween stuff in the yard gave me an odd feeling.
It had been a few years since I’d seen him. We hadn’t had a falling out, exactly. We’d just stopped talking.
His wife answered the door, eyes puffy. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“Of course.” I looked at the couch, the pillows and blankets.
“The bedroom is sealed,” she said. “I guess it’s a crime scene.”
“Are you going to move?” I asked, regretting it.
Her swollen eyes pooled. “The kids,” she said. “The kids.”
