Noah’s face, smiling, stared back at me. The color photo didn’t do him justice. It didn’t show his wolf-like blue eyes, it couldn’t capture his baritone laugh. Although you could see his broad, heart-melting smile, the spark of his presence was missing and only appeared in my memories. I sighed and folded the funeral notice that Doc gave me. Lou Ann tried to convince me that no one could predict what psychopaths do, but I my heart felt otherwise. I’m the one that should have been cremated, not him. The newspaper reported a large turnout for his memorial service. People who didn’t know Noah showed up. The two people who killed him, Ivan and myself, were not there. If I died instead of Noah, they would joke that one less lawyer ceased to exist. Instead today, I’m standing in my old office