I know those pockets. My chin dips. I stare down at my own torn pockets. “She made you a vest.” The stranger now stares at the olive fabric wrapped around me, his dark eyes glassy. “She did.” All the air has left my lungs. Hurt curls around my body, choking until it’s crushing my will, my hope, my heart. I grieve Adena all over again, because I was not the only one she lost. Two great loves were left behind, and both hug what remains of her close to their heart. Tears fall, but I don’t care that my vulnerability is on display. I kneel at the foot of our fort and cry for the girl who once
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