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By Tamra B. Orr

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His expression was hard to read, and Albert wasn’t sure if the detective thought he’d done well or not. Then there was a cursory knock on the door and Mrs. Patel was poking her head into the room without waiting for an invitation to enter. “Mrs. Morales just called back. ” “Fine, fine,” said Andersen, motioning for Mrs. Patel to leave. When the door closed again, he said to Albert, “Like I said, we’re just talking here, and I appreciate your willingness to cooperate. I’m going to ask your mother to bring you down to the station tomorrow so you can give me your statement.

Albert felt clumsy, like he was moving too fast in the dark, but Lily didn’t act like she minded. It wasn’t long before he stopped worrying about it. The next time Albert looked over at the glowing green face of the clock, it was almost two. They’d dozed off with their arms around each other. He’d startled himself awake, very aware that the little time they had was slipping away, as always, and that he couldn’t just sink into pleasant sleep for the rest of the night. Before dawn, he would have to dress and slip back into the cold and run home before his parents were up and around and noticed he was gone.

Sometime later, Albert awoke to the gloomy mid-afternoon. He was still lying on his stomach. He experienced a sleep lag right after he opened his eyes, where he knew something was wrong but didn’t remember what. He’d been so awake the last he remembered, he was surprised to find that he’d been sleeping for—check the clock—two hours. The image of Lily’s face surfaced in his mind, and he let out a soft groan. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes again, trying to sink back into a protective layer of sleep before his brain began its pointless picking, picking, picking at a problem he could do nothing about.

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