He stood, puffing his cigarette, and offered his hand.

I took it. He pulled me to my feet. “What happened to the kid?” I asked, rubbing my ass.

“Whad’ya think? She died.”

I was stunned. My world had gotten so small, my problems so huge, I forgot about those of other people. Man, the kid’s family. What they must be going through. Not that I didn’t have a pretty good idea.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry about your wife, but—”

“How do you know about my wife? Who the hell are you?”

The guy hesitated, then shrugged. “It was on the news.”

“Oh. Right.” I remembered that reporter holding the mic in my face and nodding sympathetically as she got me to give a statement. I only did because I was still in shock. Fucking vulture. I pointed at his cigarette. “Got another one?”

“You smoke?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t smell like you smoke.” He lit one with the butt of his active one, and handed it over. “You know, these things’ll kill you.” I just looked at him. He laughed. “Guess it’s better to do it slow.” (continued)