“...Mm,” he said, letting his head drop. The sound of traffic replaced his voice for a while.

“Snowy... Snowy Amworth, that was her name.”

“...Anyway... ” he said at last, “the boy and the girl find, like, an enchanted spot, a magical spot, in the... the fields.”

He says the word “fields” with a fleeting delight in his voice, and, for an instant, a sort of golden light seems to play over the dull greenish-black slope before me.

“...and there’s something they do there, they meet with the beast that lives there... and it’s wonderful... and the little girl... she’s not wanted at home... and she keeps going back to the spot because, it’s like there’s no place else for her...”

The man sighs again. I can sense the sorrow welling up from deep within him, filling his voice, and throwing a shadow over him. I turn to look at him again. His face weaves back and forth before me, very faint in the lights of the buildings far away, shining through the trees.

“...and there’s an offer... made... and she takes it... she commits suicide... the boy finds out too late, and he comes... and he sees her... sees her go...”

And now fear lifts up out of him, blending itself with the sorrow—

“...and he sees something come... the demon... it comes to receive... receive Snowy... and then it looks just like her, and she, her body, doesn’t look like her anymore, the way a dead body doesn’t look like the person it was... the demon walks away with her, her appearance.”

The man sobs, twice. “Sorry. It was so sad.”

My left hand flashes through the air and closes on his throat. The man stares at me, eyes wide, saying things, inchoate things, like “hey” and “what” and “leave me —”

“How did you find me?”

I climb on top of him, pinning him, clutching his neck. I shake him.

“Who sent you?”

The man jabbers, fumbling at me.

“You’re talking to me? About Snowy?” I ask him through gritted teeth, giving him another shake. I’m trembling, I’m seeing white. The man bucks beneath me, finally getting the idea, beginning, too late, to struggle in my grasp, but I have him pinned, my weight is on him.

“Did it send you? Did it send you? Did it?”

The lights of the park come on, backlighting the huge boulder behind the bench, blinding me with its sudden glare. I push down onto him, and he buckles under me.

“Where is she?”

My voice is low, but it tears my throat. The man stops struggling.