Lewis and I met on the bus back when we were kids. He came up to me first, asking if I wanted to sit with him. I didn’t. But he pushed and pushed until finally I said okay. We became inseparable, spending the night at eachother’s houses more than we were at our own. In school, he was quiet, but when he was alone with me he really came alive. I came to know him better than anybody else, until he moved away in our teenage years and we lost connection. I saw him again today on the news. He looked ragged and hard, but it was Lewis. The caption along the bottom of his mugshot read, “Man Suspected of Multiple Murders Caught in New York.” For some reason, I paused the TV to look at his eyes. Those hazel eyes are soft; eyes that don’t belong to a killer. I knew them well from when we were younger. Yet … they wouldn’t arrest him without any evidence. I shut the TV off, not wanting to think about that little boy I spent so much time with in my childhood.