The boy was tall, maybe around 15, and wore a dark jacket that looked slightly too big.
His nervous hands were twisting together as if bracing for something.
The boy wasn’t standing with or talking to anyone. He just appeared to be watching me from across the room, as if waiting for his turn.
When the line thinned out, he walked straight toward me.
The boy was tall, maybe around 15.
Up close, I could see how young he really was. His jaw was still soft with youth, and his eyes carried something heavy that didn’t belong on a boy his age.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said politely.
“Thank you,” I replied automatically.
Then he swallowed hard and added quietly, “He told me if anything ever happened to him… you’d take care of me.”
For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. “I’m sorry? What?”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
The boy met my eyes. “Daniel promised.”
“That I’d take care of you?” I asked, stunned. “Who are you?”
“My name is Adam.”
The room felt smaller.
Before he could say anything else, I said quickly, “I think there must be some mistake,” even though my stomach twisted with doubt. “You shouldn’t be here. This is a private family service.”
“Who are you?”
continue to the next page.”
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