I see shadows. And they move. Time itself is a choreography. I still cannot believe he’s gone. I only get kicked like this if there’s rain. I have no idea why. I had to break the door down. He was so glad to see me. I realized, he was probably deaf now, too. I dressed him and put him in the car. “Are we going somewhere.” Shake your head, yes. “Where are we going.” No where. “Look, there’s Mom, he said. He thought we were driving, but we were just sitting in the front seat. We went past everyone he knew. All of them gone. He opened the window and spoke to the many people he had known. It started to rain again. Ignition. I am still driving. Usually until I’m lost and do not care to be found. I need new window wipers. There is a small squeak as the wipers push the rain around. Sometimes, he’s there with me. Sometimes, not. I will sit in the car and turn on the radio. I am so unsure about where this thing is going. All I am left with are very faint whispers. Not unlike the sound of the rain on the roof of the car. He’s gone. The shadows melt away. That and the sound of his voice as he spoke to mother. The rain finally stopped. I am unconsciously holding my breath. He died in his sleep. I bought him a brand new door.