Skater repeated the information to himself, watching as the Johnson’s last breath hissed out of him, sounding wet, miring down at the end in the fluid-filled lungs. The eyes finally halted their endless cycling, stilling with different views but sharing the same perspective. Skater found his own breath locked tight in his chest. Maybe he’d been unwilling to breathe in the man’s death, and maybe he’d just forgotten. He wasn’t sure.