Christopher’s crying in the stairwell. He’s been at it for hours. I’m concerned about what the neighbors will think, but also I don’t care, so I shut the door and fall back into bed. I turn and press my head into the pillow. I bury it so far, it’ll never be found, and just when I’ve reached the lowest point, the door across the landing opens then shuts, and there’s a knock. “Samuel.” It’s a mirage. I pull the blanket over my head. “Sam.” Fitch stands outside the door in his tighty-whities. I can see more than I want. “What,…
