Best Friend

I stood there like an idiot while Miri exchanged Connie’s comfort for James’. He held her to him, rocking slightly and stroking her hair. I watched her hands clasp and unclasp chunks of his shirt. Watched her face contort into a nearly unrecognizable version of herself.

I hovered near the elevator, unsure how soon would be too soon before I could leave. Mr. Carr had his phone pressed to his ear and spoke in rapid shotgun-style sentences. Miri’s mom had died while James had been getting me, just like he feared, and now arrangements had to be made. Connie perched on the edge of a utilitarian chair, her face buried in her hands. The elevator opened and a wave of people rushed into the room, clustering first around Mr. Carr before a few broke off and descended upon Miri. She was reluctant to trade James’ comforting arms for the somewhat false-seeming back-pats and coos of, “Oh, I’m so sorries.”