WILLEM

Months had gone by and I had only seen Darren that once through a crowd.  I didn’t know how to get in touch with him other than a door-to-door search. He wasn’t at the library in our favorite spot. And I wasn’t going to check the cliffs . . .

One night I was getting into my car and a classmate asked me for my notes.  As I discussed it the wind blew and closed the car door, my keys inside.  The classmate said, “good luck with that” and was gone. I was trying all the doors, and then resorted to banging on the window, as if the car would just relent and let me back in. A passing graduate student slowed and stopped.

“Are you in need of assistance?” He said, in a deep voice with a German accent.

“Maybe.  I lo...

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