T-Shirt, the crucifix and incisor, the goatee and gun. He included the time of day and weather conditions, the policeman’s name and badge number.

In the end he could do no more. He had assembled a full and accurate accounting of the event. That’s how these things were done.

His account did not mention what he saw when he finally turned to look for Marion. She must have followed him into the light and then fainted, for a crowd had gathered around her body on the sidewalk and a strange man held her head in his lap. “It’s okay, baby,” Franklin heard him say, but when he knelt beside them the man took him for a bystander. “Back off, dude,” he said. “Give her air.”

Large beads of sweat broke out suddenly on Marion’s forehead. She gasped and opened her eyes, and the look she gave Franklin was as cool and forbidding as the face of the stranger who held her.

The gravel yielded up a half-bucket of tea-colored slop, and they replaced it with an equal measure of treated water from the tap. Finally they scrubbed the filter with a toothbrush, and they were done. The tank glowed, blue and sparkling, and the fish swam to and fro, radiant gems of shimmery life.

Franklin and Marion returned their tools to the sink and closet, washed their hands and then stood together, surveying their work. “Susie Park will be here a week from today,” Marion said finally, unrolling her sleeves and collecting her jacket and scarf. Franklin sat down. The announcers were discussing the president’s State of the Union address scheduled for that evening. Would he deliver the speech or should he postpone?