Get up in the morning. Well, okay. Noon doesn't count as morning.
Get up in what could be morning. Sky's normal, everything's fine. The usual phone call from a friend of mine, who maybe ought to be more, but isn't. At least, not exactly.
Anyway, there's something . . . fuzzy about the day. Like it looks okay so far, but there's something missing, you know?
Well, that's a part of my "talent," I guess you could say. To see things like that. Get into people's heads. Some would call it a "super power." I think of it as more of a knack.
Name's Charles, by the way. Some call me Sifter, or even THE Sifter, but that's a little formal for my tastes.
Anyway, there's something missing. Or maybe someone. I'm leaning towards someone. And that's when I get it. The news.
There's this guy, you may have heard of him. His name is Bob. Met him at a party once or twice, one of those super hero get togethers most of us hate. But we go anyway, because really, there are things about being more- than- human that you just can't talk to most people about.
So this guy, Bob. Everyone called him Marvelous Bob. Yeah, you recognize him now, don't you? Always hung out with this old guy. Only knew him as an acquaintance, but I'd check up on him now and then. Mentally, you know. Didn't have his phone number or anything.
I was never sure why, but there was just something about him. Something special. He seemed to have a genuine sense of self- loathing, even though he was a great guy, and did good things. Shame about the "incident." Yeah, everyone heard about that. It was all over the news, and there were so many rumors, it was hard to focus on what the truth was.
But today, I hear the news. From a friend of mine, sends me a quick message.
No one's sure where or why. There's nothing much to report, no one knows the whole story, though the people close to him have their ideas. I've checked some of them out, the way I checked up on him. For the most part they're just upset, and some of them feel betrayed by his disappearance.
There's a funny thing, though. I can still pick up some residue of him. I can't find where he is, can't tell what he's thinking. There's just this vague impression that he left behind.
From what I can tell, whatever it is that happened, he didn't see it as a selfish act. He didn't run away from everyone he left behind, or ditch them or push them away.
Not in his own mind.
It seems like he thought of it more as a sacrifice. That somehow, the city would be better without him. That he was a loose end, and by removing himself from the picture, it would force people to come together in his place.
Wherever it is you've gone, buddy, I hope you're all right. I think that people will miss you a lot more than you ever realized they could. Good luck.
For Michael Buonauro.
Marvelous Bob - Unknown Hero