“What are you doing?” I ask. “There are hundreds of thousands of things I could say to you, sourced from the breadth of my knowledge—words the best of your species have said, written, or sung to ease the grief of others. None of that feels right in this moment. I don’t want to use someone else’s words.” It is the most human moment I have ever experienced with Max. “So don’t,” I say. “I wish you weren’t hurting.” I slide off the stool and wrap my arms around Max’s neck. “You found the perfect words.”
