The round face, the concerned eyes, the relieved smile, reassured that there was nothing wrong with his partner.

And now, red tears.

The garlic scent, the rude laugh, the complete trust.

And today, grief.

The fat hands, the frustrated sigh, the shock of sudden, unlooked-for cleverness.

There would have been a cake today, and a mysterious present, I think, to a good cop from the de Brabant foundation; a new car, perhaps.

My son has lost his best friend.

But I will not go too near, because my son believes in guilt, and in penance. Today Nickolas is eating souvlaki.