"Don't do that, okay?" he said. "I'll think of
something. Let me sleep on it. Do you want to sleep here? I can make up
the sofa."
"Thanks, big brother," Edward said. "Thanks."
#
Alan walked past his study, past the tableau of laptop and desk and
chair, felt the pull of the story, and kept going, pulling his housecoat
tighter around himself. The summer morning was already hotting up, and
the air in the house had a sticky, dewy feel.
He found Edward sitting on the sofa, with the sheets and pillowcases
folded neatly next to him.
"I set out a couple of towels for you in the second-floor bathroom and
found an extra toothbrush," Alan said. "If you want them."
"Thanks," Edward said, echoing in his empty chest. The thick rolls of
his face were contorted into a caricature of sorrow.
"Where's Frederick?" Alan asked.
"Gone!" Edward said, and broke into spasms of sobbing. "He's gone he's
gone he's gone, I woke up and he was gone."
Alan shifted the folded linens to the floor and sat next to
Edward. "What happened?"
"You *know* what happened, Alan," Edward said. "You know as well as I
do! Dave took him in the night. He followed us here and he came in the
night and stole him away."
"You don't know that," Alan said, softly stroking Edward's greasy fringe
of hair. "He could have wandered out for a walk or something.
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