“I lost someone this spring.”
Over weeks, the pending verdict turned into coffee, then dinner, then him fixing the squeaky hinge on my back door without being asked.
One evening on my porch, he stared at his hands for a long time.
“I lost someone this spring,” he finally offered. “Best friend since we were boys. He raised his granddaughter after her parents passed away. Now it’s just.” His voice caught. “Anyway.”
I didn’t press. I only set my hand over his, and he turned his palm up to hold mine.
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