“I’m pretty tired,” she said instead. She faced Mitty and gave her a painfully polite smile. “Give me a hug?” She opened her arms and Mitty, unable to muster an argument, stepped into them, resting her chin on Esme’s shoulder. She swallowed, attempting to drown out her urge to cry. Esme pulled away while Mitty was still holding on. And though the time in which Mitty’s arms were wrapped around her waist was brief, those few seconds felt like everything Mitty needed to know. It was suddenly too obvious, their asymmetry, one of them trying to stay and one already letting go.