The TV was on when Raul came home.
He hadn't left it on.
The volume was low, just enough to fill the room, the specific murmur of a channel nobody had chosen, and he was about to turn it off when the chyron at the bottom of the screen stopped him.
BREAKING: LOCAL BOXING FIGURE REPORTED MISSING
"...last seen Tuesday afternoon leaving a café on the north side. Sources close to the athlete say there was no indication, no note, no communication. Chicago police have confirmed they are treating this as a missing persons case and are asking anyone with information …"
On the screen: a photograph. Arena lights. Glitter on his wraps. The mouthguard grin.
The one the world knew.
The one the world knew.
✻ ✻ ✻
His glasses were still on the nightstand.
His medication was already gone.
The cabinet above the glasses was open.
Raul stood in the kitchen doorway and looked at the open cabinet for a long time and did not move and the apartment was very quiet and outside Chicago was doing what Chicago did and the news was still playing in the other room and the voice on it kept saying his name.
His name.
The one the world loved.
The one that was not the only one he had.
✻ ✻ ✻
Elena came out of her room.
She looked at Raul.
Raul looked at her.
Neither of them said anything.
The news kept going.