The sun glare flared over the windshield, blinding Andrew and snapping him out of his thoughts. Reaching upward, he grabbed the car visor and pulled it over the top of the car windshield. He glanced down at his speedometer: thirty-three miles per hour. After five seconds or so, his eyes shot back up to the windshield.

A honking came from another car. Andrew turned and saw the car that had been driving to the left of him; it had stopped dead in its tracks. Andrew looked into his rearview mirror and realised he had just run a red light.

“Crap…” Andrew sighed; he decided to just keep driving, but he made sure to keep his mind on the road. It wasn’t as if he was that careless often, but the events of the last few days had been stamped into his mind.

It all had happened so fast. They were just sitting down at the restaurant and had been talking about the latest football game when Matthew had overheard Zach talking about the rights of refugees and their connection to their religion. Andrew never caught whatever Zach had said, but whatever it was, it got Matthew heated. Matthew shot up and went straight for Zach. Apparently what had killed Zach was the shock mixed with his head smashing into the bar counter.

In retrospect, Andrew felt he could have done so much more, He could have calmed Matthew down during his rants about Zach, changed his mind or at least gotten him off of the insults and threats. He could’ve kept more of a watch on Matthew’s activity. All of these actions  could’ve prevented the fight, yet Andrew did none of them. Only now he saw it was too late. No amount of wishful imagination about the outcome would help lessen Andrew’s guilt. Zach was dead, and while Matthew had never meant to kill the man,  he had. Matthew had blood on his hands and was being prosecuted for murder.

Pulling up on his driveway, moving into his garage, and parking his car, Andrew kept his hands on the wheel. His stare cut through the walls and he sat there. Eventually Andrew let out a sigh, unbuckled his seatbelt, and slumped out of the car.

Grabbing a Monster™ energy drink, Andrew sat down in his living room chair. Throughout the day there had only been one thing conquering his mind, and he didn’t expect that to stop anytime soon.

He had certainly was never enthusiastic about Zach. If someone had asked him about Zach, he would of responded with a high pitched “Ehhhh…” He found Zach to be overly critical, obsessive, unfair, and religiously and culturally intolerant, certainly not someone he would enjoy for company, but he was never the type to use violence on people. well, not like the kind Matthew had envisioned and enacted.

Thinking about Matthew now made Andrew angry. Angry that he resorted to violence to prove his points, angry that he never realized the fatal possibilities of his attacks. Angry that… that he, Andrew, was now roped up in this mess.

The police were holding Matthew at the station under charges of murder. At best he would probably get manslaughter, which was still a hefty prison sentence. Andrew was expecting to get a witness request to come in for Matthew’s trial, but that only complicated things further. How could he stand there and admit in front of Matthew that while he didn’t directly kill Zach, his actions influenced Zach’s demise? Or would he lie? Lying might save Matthew, but again, was Andrew willing to lie to save his friend, to let the truth lie in the same cold grave Zach was now? Matthew would be going to jail for years if he was found guilty of manslaughter… even worse, what if despite the evidence, Matthew was convicted for murder? What if the evidence was skewed? What if in jail Matthew was…?

Andrew was getting a headache; each outcome that he thought of only lead to ten more questions, and the stress was getting to him. Andrew stared down at his Monster™ energy drink and noticed that he had been squeezing the can the entire time while thinking about the events that had transpired. Sighing, he looked up at the clock. It was ten o’clock. Slowly getting up, Andrew decided he would just go to bed; stress wasn’t good for him at work, at home, ever. Andrew turned his lights off and slumped down into his bed, yet he wasn’t tired at all; he couldn’t calm down… and the haunt of not stepping forward when he could’ve prevented the death of Zach Larfeniuk kept him awake for what Andrew estimated would be a two hours, eyes open, and mind racing fast. He thought not just about Zach, not just about Matthew, but of his own fate as well. Eventually, however, Andrew felt himself drifting off to sleep and wouldn’t be woken until a phone call at ten o’clock in the morning.