“Hey,” he said softly. There was no platitude or sentiment that could soothe this. He thought of waking in the hospital; he thought of every waking moment since. It wasn’t quite the same, but a disappearance was a lot like a death.

Slowly, he approached her and sat down next to her. Curtis would have known what to say or do. Frank wasn’t a counselor. He didn’t handle grief well, in himself or others.