He is now twenty six and I am eighteen. Anyway, this story is not about Adam, its about his wife Sophie. Last week Adam and Sophie, and their daughter...Emma, came around my parents house where I live, for dinner. I said hello, but being busy with exams, made my apologies and went upstairs to revise. About an hour later Sophie came upstairs and put little Emma, only two years old, in the bed in the spare room to sleep. She smiled to me but said nothing. As she went into the other room, I couldn't. “Okay. I saw a dead guy.”“You saw a dead guy.”“Yep. I saw a dead guy.”“Did you kill him?”“No.” She laughed again. I was beginning to recognize she laughed a lot. “The guy next door got shot. By his girlfriend or his wife or somebody. We were partying in my apartment, next door.”“We?”“Me and Dolph and Joanie and Tim. Dolph’s my boyfriend. WAS my boyfriend. Joanie and Tim are just friends. And we were partying, like I said. Nothing hardcore: just booze and weed. And we heard a gunshot.”“What did. More

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