“My earliest memories, as a child, are mostly made up of images. Grandparents, feeble, more from the harshness of the world than from their age, sitting on stumps. A dad who was a wrecked person, always distraught, unable to get over my mom, who’d died in some horrible way that was never explained to me, no matter how many times I asked. My dad carried a little wooden stool wherever he went. I can still see him sitting on that thing, staring at the ground.” She paused, doing what her dad did. “He ignored me, mostly. It wasn’t his fault, you know. He was just so . . . broken from whatever he’d been through. From what happened to my mom.”

Minho sat up, leaning forward on his elbows. “Roxy . . . I’m sorry to hear that. That’s really, really sad.” That was it. That was the best he could do. Hating himself a little, he lay back and settled on his blanket.

“I know your life has been just as harsh,” Roxy said quietly, the words barely slipping through the wispy flames of the campfire. “More harsh. I think it would mean a lot to me if we could end up talking about these things. These . . . horrible, crappy things.”

Minho shifted so that he could look up at her face. “Roxy?”

She pinched her mouth as if expecting a rude comment. “Yes?”

“Thank you for telling me that.”

She definitely seemed taken aback. “Well . . . you’re welcome. Thanks for listening. So what . . . do you want to hear more? Or do you want to take a turn?”

Minho snored, loudly.

He had to fake it a bit, but not much. His eyes had closed and his breathing turned weighty. He needed sleep. And it would come, what with yet another small beginning having graced the path of his hardpan life.

“Typical,” Roxy whispered, but there was no hurt in the word. She shuffled and shifted and settled for the night. “Goodnight, you interesting young man.”

He faked another snore.

“Typical,” she whispered again.

“Roxy?”

She didn’t answer.

“Thank you for that stew. It was the best meal I’ve ever had, except maybe the one we had at your house. Thank you.”

A few seconds passed, the dying spits of the fire and flame the only sound.

Roxy snored, loudly.