Flashes of an angry exchange of words. With John, who was once my friend. And my wife’s ex-husband. A tussle, the thrust of a knife. Wails of a siren as I slip into the world of darkness.
I have a blurry vision of three neighborhood children playing hide-and-seek.
“He has lost much blood. A rare group. Lucky the volunteer came at the nick of time.”
“The donor was John’s father,” someone whispers into my ear, “As insisted by his son while being taken into custody.”