the train tracks in the warm summer night, the bright, white orb continued to approach. kris could see the dirt shoulder across the road where the boy’s body had finally come to rest. a wooden cross was now sticking from the dirt, marking the spot. like the cross he wore, it had two bars. and he had watched the hard man from the boy’s garage, build the cross and put it into the ground there earlier this afternoon. from the edge of the trees, he had watched the man work, pausing occasionally to weep.
kris knew the man’s grief. he’d seen it stream over the man’s hard, red face the only 