They walked out through the motel door and headed south along a back road, hurrying. Trudging through snowdrifts under a granite sky. Jack had slung the duffel over his shoulder, and he carried the grocery bag clenched in one hand. Bright snow falling. Getting worse. He held Matty’s hand and watched the road, but there was no one. Not even a snowplow. He heard an engine only once. They trudged along until they came to the bridge and then Jack had to stop. He leaned on the iron rail until he got his breath. The pain in his side was waking. His heart thudded, caroming against his chest. He did not like that thud. As though a dark pool pulsed.

Matty tugged his hand, and he looked around but there was nothing to see. No police car. No sheriff. Okay, Jack thought. This is going okay. Good.

They plodded along, with Jack moving slowly and Matty keeping close to him. Jack didn’t know where he was going. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. The road seemed to sway. But it really isn’t, Jack thought. See, Jack? You know the sway is just in your head. See? You’re thinking straight. Good. You’re doing okay. He went on. Treading thoughts, deep water. Each heart thud darker black.

On Main Street, he stopped again while snowflakes dazzled about the tumult of sky and danced in all directions. Air currents traveled over the snow. Cars here, noise. Stores open. The sway is just in your head. Matty tugged on his hand, urgently, and Jack blinked. He could see Matty standing there, looking at him from an incomprehensible distance. Glowing in the cold.

A car slowed and pulled alongside them. Someone stopping. He turned and started to tell Matty to run, but then he didn’t. He just stood in the street and waited. Holding Matty’s hand.

The window slid down.

Ava leaned over from the driver’s side and looked at him with her lovely eyes.

“Get in,” she said.

Jack cleared his throat and muttered, “Hi.”

Matty smiled at her—a smile that was scared, tired. Relieved.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Jack tried to answer and couldn’t find words.

“Walking,” Matty said.

“Get in the car,” she said again.

Matty opened the rear door and got in.

Jack just stood there, inhaling the snowflakes. The dark pool in his chest pulsed, and he knew that he needed to sit. He looked at Ava. He wanted to sit by her. For as long as he could.

He opened the passenger door. Got in.

She pulled onto the road. Jack leaned his head on the seat and watched what passed before him. Storefronts, the branches of trees. A park. His eye fell on Ava’s wrist. With every breath came a sharp longing.

“The heart on your wrist,” he asked. “What does it mean?”