Rick had been tinkering in his garage, as he almost always did. He could hear the front door creek open, and he knew right away it was you. In his peripheral he’d noticed you in the eye of his camera. You were limping. Hiding your face. Rick had stopped you just as you began to ascend the stairs, gripping your arm.

“The hell happened to you?” he flipped you around, being met face to face with your bloodied face.