“Shoot, how’d a pretty boy like you survive the Fish Killer?” Reggie looked at the chess opponent sitting across from him for affirmation.

Matt’s brother smiled. “Kept my head down, I guess.”

“And ass to the wall,” Reggie cackled.

Danny didn’t mention that he almost didn’t survive prison. That he’d been hospitalized for nearly a month.

“I heard your bro got you out?” Reggie said.

Matt lowered the camera, defeated. “No,” he said. “My family got him out.” Matt pictured Maggie and his father poring over mountains of evidence piled on the desk in their home office, his mother plodding off to Nebraska to plead with the governor about a pardon.

Danny rested a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here without this guy.” It was partially true, but credit went to the new governor, whose first act in office was to push the board to pardon Danny. The governor’s predecessor, Noah Brawn, would be spending the rest of his days in a cell at the very prison where Danny was first incarcerated.

“Damn, Affleck. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

Matt raised the camera. “Seriously. I’m losing light. And we have someplace to go before sundown.”

Reggie made a noise of annoyance and turned back to the chessboard. Mumbling to himself, he said, “Who’s gonna watch a movie about two old men playing chess anyway?”

An hour later, Matt and Danny sat at an outdoor café on Fourteenth Street. Matt had a tall mug of beer in front of him, the glass sweating, the brew cold and perfect on a hot summer evening. Danny sipped a glass of water. He’d given up alcohol.

“How long until it happens?” Danny asked.

Matt checked the time on his phone. “They say at eight twenty.”

The sun was starting to appear between the gap in the street grid. They’d know it was time when crowds took to the streets with their phones.

“Remember our first Manhattanhenge?” Matt asked.

Danny looked up, trying to conjure the memory. “How old were you? Five? Maybe six?”

“Six.”

“Like Tommy,” Danny said.

Matt felt a rush of emotion.

“What was he like? I mean, Dad and Mom talked a lot about him, but I never got to…” Danny let the thought trail off.

“He was funny, a mama’s boy.”

“Like you at that age.”

Matt smiled.

“I remember now,” Danny said. “That was the trip when you had the allergy attack when we visited Mom’s friend who had a cat. You were wheezing and you scared the shit out of everyone.”

Matt had an image of himself in an unfamiliar bathroom, his mother filling the room with steam to try to open up his lungs. Her soothing voice. Keeping him calm. Making him feel safe.