I’m the last person to visit the hospital room. Mike Dodds’s pale body lies there, not looking human. Not looking like himself. Captain Benson stands next to Chief Dodds as he cries over the loss of his son. I suddenly feel like I shouldn’t be there. Like I’m trespassing.

I walk back out into the hallway. I don’t know why, but the sight of you slumped over in one of those stupid plastic chairs hurts worse than the sight of my friend lying dead. I whisper your name. I don’t know what to say.