Then he bent down and picked up a small box wrapped in plain brown paper that he had carried in and set beside the table, and that I had not once noticed, because I had spent the whole evening watching his face and never his hands.

“I brought you a gift,” he said into the microphone.

His voice came out clear and even and carried to every corner of that silent room.

People leaned in, smiling, charmed.

Kingston chuckled and tore off the brown paper and lifted the lid.

I have gone back to those few seconds more than any others, because they hold the two halves of everything.