The man stares into you, his eyes wet. Red. His hands are trembling and balling into fists so tight. You swear the bones of his fingers could rip through his skin at any moment.

"She... Was everything to me. And now? She's gone." He sniffles. "One of those cargo belts snapped and hit her head."

His grief flows into you. You taste it on your tongue and it singes your nose hairs. A thought urges you to cry but you ignore it. It would be... Unprofessional.

Still, boss, the process needs to start. A knot needs to be untangled here.

"Come on," you tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get some lunch. You like pumpkin pie?"

He draws in a ragged breath. A crack in the wall of immense pain. His face lightens, if so very slightly.

"I do." He whispers. He wipes the snot dribbling onto his upper lip. The bitter mid-winter air feels just slightly warmer. The waves against the docks drawing in and out, in and out. Your hearts, beating together with them. For now, in this most tender of moments, you may as well be the only two people in the world.

Well done, boss.