an older man in the front row asked the question . a ghost smile touches his lips as i stare at my bra in my hand , racking my brain for a way to get it on without flashing him . `` you 're not all that warm and fuzzy yourself . '' and despite the warm night air , i shivered in the dark , the feeble porch light glowing over us , bugs knocking into it . `` i do n't care about anything that much . '' that night , the night he was killed , i went to find him . 