“Why did you come to the church that day?” she asks. He hesitates and she becomes aware that they’re holding hands still. He studies their gloved hands as he contemplates an answer. “I felt like I should,” he says. “I didn’t really want to. I just felt like . . . I owed it to her, or something. It was stupid, in retrospect. I was thinking about me and not how it’d make your family feel. My dad tried to talk me out of it, to be fair.” “It must have been hard for you,” she says. He laughs mirthlessly. “Hard for me,” he murmurs. “You lost your sister.”
