He arrived with the storm the night of the wake, his appearance marked by a gust of cold wind and noticed only by one startled infant who burst into inexplicable tears. It was the splendid row of funerary casseroles that detoured him from his long journey, but it was the widow's face that made him stay. She reminded him of someone he had lost long ago, someone he had loved very much, someone he had hurt.... She moved around the room with quiet dignity, smiling warmly at sympathetic strangers, accepting their regrets and condolences with the grace of an angel. Afterwards, she cried alone in her car. He watched her through the curtains of rain that fell between them and realized his search had come to an end. He waved at the clouds. "Looks like this is my stop. Auf Wiedersehen, old friend." With one last crackle of lightning, the storm moved on.