It’s a “Have you seen me?” type flier for the old man next door. Name. Date of birth. Height, weight, eye color. And the last time he was seen. On an afternoon walk. Two days ago. My breath comes too fast. Hissing in and out of my lungs. I see Bowman in the driveway, asking Wayne to call if he happens to see him. He was talking about our neighbor. Breath. Breath. Breath. Breath. I hear Wayne apologizing for not being any help. Because we haven’t had a chance to unpack, much less meet any of the neighbors. Breath. Breath. Breath. Breath. I see Ben’s face, smiling in the driveway as he stares at
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