She said, “You look like you need a hug, but my teddy’s better at those than me.”

He didn’t say a word. Just reached out, took it like it was made of glass, and held it to his chest. Then he did something none of us expected.

He cried.

Not loudly. Not messy. Just quiet tears behind those sunglasses until he had to take them off and wipe his face with the edge of his vest.

He asked her name. Told her the bear reminded him of his daughter. Then he stood up, gave Riley the gentlest fist bump I’ve ever seen, and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

Later, one of the women in the group pulled me aside and told me why