“One of Cam’s friends performed “Hallelujah” as the last song. His voice was strong, then it broke, but he kept playing. We hovered in the entryway of the church when it was over. The family planned a small brunch at a restaurant down the street. The back room had been reserved for us. Aunt Babe returned my scarf folded in the most perfect way. I stuffed it in my coat pocket.” Read more fiction at Bridge Eight