"Actual crows carrying the soul away." -Zachary Schomburg, from The Man Suit

Crowd

I was getting nervous. Are you traitor I said. The person sitting across the table from me shook his head “no,” and was perspiring a bit around his forehead. Are you the traitor he said. I shook my head “no,” and started fidgeting with my silverware. This is a nice restaurant I said. Oh, by far, one of the best he said. I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to eat, what, with that traitor on the loose I said. The person shook their head gravely in agreement. From the booth behind me, I heard a muffled whisper. The person must have noticed it, too, because he was looking to the right of my head, behind me, quite alarmed. It was the traitor. After all the search parties, all the helicopter chases, after all of the army involvement, television announcements, search-dog barking, rewards, and false positives, here was the traitor, sitting in the flesh and blood, enjoying some meal I could smell, but wouldn’t dare to look and see what it was. I heard the traitor’s leather seat squeaking as he moved around, and, before the person or I could protest, he had joined us at our booth. Hey, Steve. Hey, James the traitor said. I felt weak. Hey, Dave I said. Don’t speak to him; you could be an accessory now the person said. We paid for our untouched meals, and left the restaurant. It was a cloudless, mild day, so, the three of us decided to go on a walk in the park. The trees were changing color, but because of the drought. We could hear sirens in the distance, but, with that traitor on the loose, there was always some sort of siren going off, and it was difficult to tell the difference between another siren and the howl of the wind. We took the hiking path to the overlook of the town. We watched the sun set, there, in silence. Our old friend, Dave, was gone, and James and I didn't know whether to feel grief, or to feel happy for our last day.