Firefly Glen Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl

Cole lingered in the silence that followed her words, his gaze fixed on her, yet softened in an unusual stillness. He sensed the weight of her sorrow, saw it carved in the stiffness of her posture, and caught the subtle tremor in her voice as she spoke her son’s name. Alasdair. A name she carried like a stone in her chest, one that tore at her with both hope and despair. Good name for a good boy.

Cole’s throat tightened; he wasn’t sure what to say to ease such a burden. Words rarely had that power, and he wasn’t one for grand promises he couldn’t keep. But the image of her, alone in her grief, stirred something foreign and uncomfortable in him.

Y’alone out here otherwise? he asked, his voice a quiet murmur. It was more than idle curiosity. He wanted to understand, maybe offer a sliver of reassurance if he could. For someone who had lost everything, maybe just remembering it could make the darkness less daunting.

If y’ve got more youngin’s ‘ta feed, can bring ‘ya back to mine.