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suppress her giggles whenever Reg stumbled and nearly lost his balance, his lankiness unsuited to quick pivots and reversals.
    Naturally there were moments Reg would steam with frustration, as anyone swatting at gnats would, especially if one of the boys got past him with the same old feint or won the ball from him too easily. But there was never any taunting or lingering funny feeling, and when he said he had to go, the boys would plead for him to stay through one more goal and turn with him to Fan and await her signal, sending up a stout cheer when she said Sure, which she always did. When they were finally done, they’d each leap up and double high-five Reg’s hands raised high, and in the sharpness of the smacks Fan could hear how pumped they were, how literally uplifted, how much bigger and brighter they must have felt themselves to be by virtue of his wholly generous being.
    And maybe, if only in retrospect, we felt that way, too, whenever we saw Reg and Fan riding their electric scooters side by side, often close enough to hold hands (Reg having no balance issues here), their easeful gliding down the long alleys of these streets a demonstration of our good order. For no matter the shadows of an age, the picture of a young couple in love, we are told, speaks most luminously of the future, as the span of that passion makes us believe we can overleap any walls, obliterate whatever obstacles.
    In the days between when Reg went absent and the accident with the boys, we would be hoping to see Fan doing okay on her own. As we’ve already noted, she didn’t seem overly concerned, she was quietly biding the time, doing the appropriate things in terms of asking questions and pursuing available avenues, and yet in the mall or at the facility one could see she seemed, ironically, even smaller than before, for not being always next to Reg. He sized her, if this can be said, the way a planet does its moon, the two bodies perhaps much differing within their scale but nothing like they would be once adrift in the profound vastness of space.
    Though plenty cozy, B-Mor can be a lonesome place.
    And when Reg’s young friend, Joseph, was suddenly lost in that last big storm, one could see how it was a lot to take. Here is what happened: Joseph was watching his brother and his brother’s friend that afternoon, both sets of parents at work in the grow house, but the Wi-Fi had gone out because of the heavy rains and so they had been stuck inside all day without any gaming or vids; but then there was a sudden break in the cloud cover—it was one of those swirling weather systems that are rapidly changeable—and the younger boys begged to go out. Joseph agreed, and when they got to the park, it started to rain lightly but in a brilliant sun shower and rainbow. When it turned into a full-blown downpour, they decided what the heck, let’s have some fun, happily getting soaked to the bone as they played.
    Then they apparently came upon a shallow, newly formed pond in a low-lying area near the entrance of the park, the muddied water running off from a nearby swollen stream, and to their glee there were what seemed a thousand fish bristling about the surface. As any boys might, they decided to try to catch some, Joseph wielding a few downed leafy branches to corral them, while his brother and friend tried to snatch them with their bare hands. Of course, they weren’t catching them to eat—these were our fish, but released for an ornamental life in the ponds (only counties people would ever eat wild fish, plus we have the benefit of purchasing our own prized fish at a significant discount from what Charters have to pay)—the three boys just having a blast like boys have since the beginning of time, shouting in triumph whenever one actually caught a fish, the rain coming down in sheets but unable to dampen any part of them.
    And they were frolicking like that, without a care, because what dangers could Joseph have anticipated in the