When I do, he loops a red lace around my wrist. Once, twice, three times. Double knotting the bracelet in place. “Now do me,” he says, holding out his arm and the other lace. With lightly shaking fingers, I loop and double knot it around his wrist. “There,” he says, with a breath. “I didn’t get to do voodoo magic on it or anything. But maybe whenever you feel down or… or if you ever miss home? Maybe you look at it and know that someone here is thinking about you. Missing you.”
