I remember a boy named Roy in Charleston after the divorce when mom was going back to school after twelve years and we lived at the edge of town by a field where I shot a bird on a wire and was devastated by myself. Roy live nearby a pig farm where I tried to steal a piglet and where our basset hound Max ran off to get laid. Roy lived in a gray wood shack with dirt floors and a television with a hole blasted in its face by his dad. I felt bad for Roy and asked mom if he could stay with us a couple days. then I felt bad that Roy smelled so bad and mom said he's got to go, and his presence remained I don't know how long, longer than he stayed and I don't know if I saw him again and I wonder what the rest of his life was like and if he's still alive.