Out of my reach—that’s where he always is. I sprint along the paths he crossed, into the woods, out of the fields, chasing him through places only we know. Sometimes I lose sight of him, just for a moment, and when I do, he’s nothing but a speck of dust on the horizon. Even when he’s near, within my line of sight, I can never touch him. He makes sure of that.

But I never miss the chance to look a...