Dave stepped back into the main room, his boots clicking softly against the cold, sterile floor. His gaze immediately met Chris who was hunched in a corner, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world rested upon them.
Chris's eyes were distant, unfocused, staring at nothing in particular. His hands, usually steady, now fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, twisting and pulling in absent-minded gestures. There were no tears, no outward signs of distress, yet an undeniable heaviness hung in the air around him.
Dave hesitated, unsure of how to bridge the chasm of grief that seemed to separate them. Words of comfort eluded him; he had never been adept at offering solace. Instead, he turned his attention to the others, who were gathered near the entrance, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and apprehension.
