Balthazar’s father is sitting in the chair with its back to the front door, weeping. This makes Balthazar very uncomfortable. He walks slowly past him, opening the screen door slowly and once past the threshold, takes off in a flash. The screen door slams back against the door frame with its tinny thud. Balthazar’s father shaken by the sudden noise hurriedly wipes the tears from his eyes, “Balthazar is that you?” But Balthazar is already across the lawn and entering the backwoods. Walking through shadow and light Balthazar thinks of adults crying. He never saw an adult cry before, not one and was trying to understand why he ran. Maybe it’s because, he thought, that once you grew up and were an adult, all that crying stuff would be over. He thought about it a lot and had been pretty set on the idea that being sad was a kid thing. Maybe he was wrong after all and that was too much to imagine.