He kept it folded in the bottom drawer of his dresser and wore it only on days when he missed David so badly that words seemed to make things worse.

There were dark circles beneath Walter’s eyes.

His hair needed washing.

His shoelace was untied.

A vending-machine pretzel wrapper stuck out of the side pocket of his backpack.

I stared at him.

And something inside me cracked open.

Walter had lived with me since he was five.