Adia keeps her hand steady, content to let Amelia hold it as loosely or as tightly as she sees fit. "He's a good friend," she agrees quietly. "I can see why he means so much to you." She wasn't nearly as close to Steve, but she can easily empathize with her loss. "Friends like that are hard to come by, even for me. I'm sure he felt the same about you."

Is that why Adia can sit here, dry-eyed, while Amelia pours out her grief? Well, yes, the fact that she was only starting to become good friends makes her own loss less traumatic. But more importantly, she hasn't given up hope that he'll return some day, alive and well. It burns within her, small and steady, and keeps her tears at bay.

But Amelia doesn't want that hope, so Adia doesn't suggest it, even though she wishes that her hope was a tangible thing, something she could share.

"It's okay," She reassures Amelia. "I know it's hard to talk about it. I've lost family, too, and even thinking about them hurt too much, at first. But whatever you want to say, I'll listen."