We stare at each other for a fraction of a second, and I almost feel like I’m looking at a different person. He’s not a simple optimist. His personality can’t be explained away by calling him an extrovert and nothing else. He thinks about life, about people, and he misses his dad. He has a story—a sad, sweet story that plucks the few strings that are left in my heart. It makes me feel mushy and uncomfortable and curious and anxious all at the same time.
