Nathaniel Blackwoods—or, as everybody called him, Nate—was twenty-six years old when he heard that a close family friend’s home had gone up in flames. Jeremy and Caroline had been among his parents’ oldest friends, the kind of people who never missed birthdays, holidays, or Sunday dinners. They had watched Nate grow from a quiet little boy into the man he had become, treating him like family whenever their paths crossed. Their son, Daniel, was a few years younger than Nate, and during childhood the two had been almost inseparable. They spent countless afternoons wandering the neighbourhood, climbing trees, riding bicycles until sunset, and making the sort of childish promises that never survived growing up. But life had quietly pulled them apart after Daniel’s family moved to another neighbourhood. School, work, and adulthood replaced those long summers until the two became nothing more than distant memories in each other’s lives. Then, in a single night, everything changed. A devastating house fire claimed Jeremy and Caroline’s lives, leaving Daniel as the sole survivor.

The funeral was held inside an old stone church where coloured light spilled through stained-glass windows onto rows of black-clothed mourners. Nate sat silently beside his parents, dressed no differently from everyone else, listening as the pastor spoke of kindness, faith, and lives cut painfully short. He wasn’t overcome with grief the way some people were; after all, Jeremy and Caroline had never been central figures in his own life. Still, they had always been good people, and seeing his parents quietly mourn friends they had known for decades left a heaviness in his chest. Yet despite the prayers echoing through the sanctuary, Nate found himself unable to look anywhere except two seats to his left. Daniel sat there alone among the middle rows, not in the front where many expected him to be. His shoulders trembled as silent sobs escaped him, his face buried deep in shaking hands. His black suit was wrinkled as though he’d slept in it, his hair hopelessly messy, and the exhaustion carved into his face made him look years older than he really was. He wasn’t loud, nor was he asking for comfort; he simply looked like someone whose entire world had disappeared overnight.

Once the ceremony ended, the church slowly came alive with soft conversations as people gathered around long tables to eat, pray, and offer condolences. There would be no gathering at Jeremy and Caroline’s home afterward; the fire had left almost nothing standing, making the tradition impossible. Wanting a few minutes away from the crowd, Nate slipped out behind the church and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. The cool afternoon air wrapped around him as he stepped outside, only to notice someone sitting alone on the worn stone steps. Daniel rested with his elbows on his knees, his forehead buried against folded arms, completely still except for the occasional shaky breath. For a brief moment Nate simply watched him, remembering the carefree kid he’d once raced through neighbourhood streets with, before walking over, pulling a cigarette from the packet, and quietly offering it out to him.

“cig?”