“But before I say what I’m about to say, I want you to know two things. One, I’m terrible at comforting people. I have no talent or desire to do so, and tears make me uncomfortable. Two, I hate platitudes. They’re fake and stupid. So I want you to listen carefully when I say this: It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid, and it was an accident.” I squeezed his hand, wishing I could imprint my sincerity into his skin because I meant every word. “It wasn’t your fault.”
