He kept a part of himself held back, watching, the way you keep one hand on a door you might need to close quickly.

But within the careful boundaries he set, he was funny — dryly, unexpectedly funny — and he was kind, and he had a memory that startled me, catching and holding small details I mentioned in passing as though each one mattered.

When I stood to leave, Gail intercepted me near the front doors with the gentle caution of a professional who has watched too many hopeful first meetings curdle.

“One good conversation,” she said, “doesn’t guarantee a successful placement.”