4:12 p.m. La Crosse Arena, Washington

“Hey! You okay?” Philip kneeled at Andrew’s side. “Don’t move. That was a heck of a fall.”

“I’m fine,” Andrew said between gasps. He lay on the ice, sucking oxygen. The arena was empty. Pick-up game over, he and Phil had been squeezing in extra skating.

Andrew loved playing hockey. Loved hanging with the guys. He felt free. Reminded of his youth, before medical school, before the experiments. Unfortunately, the physical release was short-lived. The noose of responsibility re-tightened. He seized Phil’s outstretched hand. Stood on his blades.

He didn’t want to go back to the Ministry. He wanted out. Sadly, he realized it wouldn’t be easy. “Ever stopped to examine how the simple act of making one decision changes your life?”

“Huh?” Phil handed over Andy’s stick. “Gotta be kidding. Made so many decisions, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Not all, Phil. Just one.” Andrew paused, running the decision through his mind. Would I have done it differently?

“Which one?”

For a moment, Andrew wished he had confided in his younger friend, the burdens of his life suddenly overwhelming. There were so many secrets, he despaired of ever feeling whole or happy.

A garage door rumbled open. The two men waved as the Zamboni trundled forward.

“Jimmy gonna be all right?”

“Certainly. Just a minor attack.”

“Minor?”

“What’re you? Jimmy’s new specialist?”

“I’m not questioning your capabilities,” Phil said. “Y’know me better than that. Something else going wrong?”

Andrew looked squarely at Phil. “I know what I’m doing.”