“I know about grief,” I murmured. “The kind that eats you from the inside out. The kind that you don’t think you can escape from. When I lost my dad, I used to go sit in his office. I’d sit in the same chair that I’d always used when he was working late into the night, and I’d wanted to hang out with him. And I think I was waiting. I think a part of me thought that maybe he’d walk in. And he’d grin when he saw me. And then we’d just talk while he worked, about everything and anything.
