And I was left to wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t touched it. Would those squawking birds have returned, would they have ever gotten their baby back in the nest?

Mostly I wondered what had touched me that kept my father from even trying.

I sat down on the curb in front of the Mini Mart, put a cigarette between my lips, and began searching for a light. My fingertips fished blindly along the bottom of my bag, bumping into sharp obstacles, but no lighter. As always, we stopped so Kori could check out Source. She never buys magazines, just reads them there in the store like guys do. Which leaves me to wait outside like her bitch.

I repositioned my bag on my lap and pried apart the opening as far it would go, pulling things out to be able to see inside. A PSP, three Altoids citrus tins (two that held games, one that held sours), one Altoids mints tin, iPod, wallet (heavy on change), cell phone, crushed thingy of Oreos. I dug around, finding everything but my lighter.

“Shit, where’d it go?” I growled. It must have flown out during the Josh debacle.

A man coming out of the Mini Mart was suddenly standing right next to me, so close I would’ve had to bend backward to get a good look at him. “This what you’re looking for?” he asked.

I glanced at a Colorado Cares postcard flyer he held out. Did I look that pathetic? Sitting in front of the Mini Mart digging for the number to some cheesy crisis line—wait, don’t answer that!

I took it, wadded it up, and tossed it across the parking lot as far away from me as possible.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but the crisis line postcard probably did belong to me.

Colorado Cares is the teen help line run through Peak County Medical. My amateur psychologist mother volunteers there after her regular nursing shift and makes me distribute the postcards at school. I’m tempted to write on them: “Do NOT call between 3:30 and 7:30 if you want real help.”

“Wasn’t what you were looking for, huh?” the man asked. He probably thought I needed much more than a telephone number.

“Thanks, but no,” I said as I continued to search my bag. The unlit cigarette bounced between my lips, but I stated the obvious anyway: “I’m looking for a light.” I rummaged until I felt heat lick off the flame he held out to me. “Oh, thanks, man.” My eyes flicked up to him as I cupped my hands around his larger one. Just quick enough to catch his shadowed outline, before settling on the red glow of my cigarette.