POV: Kenny

“They keep kneeling, I don’t know how to tell them I’m not tall enough to hold all of this.”

Mama’s hand tightens on my shoulder before I even realize I’ve spoken out loud.

“You don’t have to hold it,” she says softly. “Just don’t let it sit on your chest.”

Papa stands on my other side. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence feels like a solid, unmoving wall.

The crowd stretches farther than I can see, people from the villages, people from the fractured ...