Roger set the tiny boxcar on Peter’s headstone, gleaming black marble to match his son’s. Roger stepped off the damp sod quickly, not liking the spongy feel of it under his feet. Autumn leaves cartwheeled across the triple gravesite in a gust, and Roger shivered again, shoulders bunched against the chill. He felt something cool touch his hand now and realized it was Jason’s slender fingers lacing through his own. This was the first time since finding him that Jason had touched Roger on his own.
