He had been fooling himself all along, he suddenly knew. He couldn't kill her. He couldn't come anywhere near to it.
He didn't want to.
"In every game," he said quietly, "there has to be a side that wins and a side that loses."
Her sobs broke off and she looked up at him, shaking her head to clear the hair from her face.
"I'm not crying because I've lost," she said quietly. "I'm crying because ... a brave man is dying! Because so many brave men have died!" She paused and the lines of weariness etched themselves back into her face. "I should have told you, Stan. I should have told you long ago. Maybe it might have helped."
She pointed to the intersection. "He won't ... last long. Go out and say good-bye."
He stared back at the intersection. It was quiet now, powdered concrete dust settling slowly out of the air. Police were circling among the quiet forms lying on the pavement while curious onlookers began to form a ring around the corner.
He walked quietly back to the street.
"Over here, Stan." The voice was faint. "You better ... hurry!"