Did you mean to kill him? he asked. When you shot him, did you mean to kill him? he lit a cigarette and handed it to his son.

I never mean to do anything. Like the time I got on a bus in Pittsburgh and wound up in Los Angeles. You remember? the father nodded. Had no money. Nothing. Just got on a bus one night and left. I’ve always done that. Leave. New Orleans, Dallas, Iowa City,  Denver, New York, Vermont, all this coming and going. Always running from something. Like a crazy person.

What did he do to you? dad asked.

He tried to steal from me.

Under the bridge?

Yeah. I was asleep, and I heard him going through my stuff, so I shot him.

I see.

I just meant to scare him off, I guess. Maybe I did try to kill him. Wouldn’t surprise me.

You have to turn yourself in, the father said.

Huh. Now, who is the crazy one?