His eyes in the lamplight were different than last summer. Things had changed for Chance since March, but they weren’t empty, his eyes, like lots of people thought about what her mother called suffering people. People thought crazy meant hollowed out, but Fiona saw it otherwise; crazy didn’t hollow someone out, even if the pills they gave the crazy did; instead, crazy filled you up. There was something extra there in Chance’s eyes now. Fiona saw little silver flecks in the iris that made his pale blue eyes look even more pale. Chance had been seeing and hearing things for a long time and what he saw and heard was filling him up, pressing against the insides of his head, always on the verge of pushing through. That was the breakdown, when it pushed through. That’s when he had to go to the hospital, twice since March, but out now. Out since last week, but still talking about love and God.