Late at night, I can’t distract myself by imagining how it would be if Finn were here. At night, I know that Finn is dead. Or do I? The thought still nags me, but what if it wasn’t really Finn? What if someone about Finn’s height and weight and wearing similar clothes stopped to help Sylvie, and he was the one who put his hand down in the puddle with the downed power line, and he’s the one in the gray box in the grave with his face burned off, not Finn. Maybe Finn hit his head, had amnesia, and wandered off. Except I know that’s not true.
