it was late at night. i was driving past the cemetery when i saw a boy standing in the rain. "do you want a ride home?" i asked. "yes, please," he said. "i live on front street, next to the school."
i handed him my old sweater. "it is cold tonight," i said, "and you are wet. you had better put this on." after that, we did not talk. when we stopped at his house, i said, "keep the sweater. i will get it tomorrow. what is your name?" "jim," he said. "thanks for the ride."
i stopped for the sweater the next day. a woman came to the door. "is jim at home?" i asked "i have come to pick up my sweater." she looked at me in a strange way. "it must have been another boy," she said. "jim is our son. but he has been dead for almost a year. he is buried in the cemetery." i told her how sorry i was, and i left. i did not know what to think.
the next morning i went to the cemetery. i wanted to see jim's grave. lying across the grave was my sweater.