anti:freeze

I am having the dream again, and this time, it doesn't end with the map.

"Remember the swans at Cedar Memorial?" Ashley says, rolling up his right sleeve, revealing his bicep and forearm.

I try not to look. I don't want to see his needle tracks.

I haven't thought about the swans in years. Some teenagers broke into Cedar Memorial cemetery late at night and killed them, cooking both birds on the bank of the artificial lake. It was sick. One of them was a politician's son. "You mean the ones that got killed?"

"Yeah." He holds out his arm. "You can look. It's okay."

I close my eyes tight and touch the thin skin of his wrist, tracing a vein to the inside of his elbow. The ridges and scars feel familiar, even though I never saw them when he was alive.

"What about the swans?" I ask.

He pulls his arm back, tugs down his sleeve.

I never get the answer I'm looking for.