George sat on the edge of the bed. “What you said tonight… you didn’t have to do that.”

From the living room, Georgie snorted. “That’s ‘cause you have no friends to be bad with.”

Then Deacon Carl cleared his throat. “George, we’ve noticed you missed the last two men’s prayer breakfasts. Everything alright?”

George was quiet. Then he ruffled Sheldon’s hair—something he never did. “Thanks, kid. Goodnight.”