Owen spots me and separates from the others. His expression is stoic, as usual, and he’s all business. He stops in front of me, and I have to take a moment to right myself. His nearness, as of late, does a number on my nerves, but it’s the concern etched in his forehead that I’m really struggling with. For me, it’s not a leap to think behind “concern” is “care,” and not far away from “care” is “love.” I snap open the “Friend Box” and stuff all of that inside.
