I had only ever seen Stefano cry a few times that I can remember. Once was when he was seven and he crashed his bike into a tree and broke his wrist. A second was when he was ten—maybe eleven and he said he was so tired of his parents screaming at each other and throwing things around the house. The last time I saw my best friend cry was when his dog died two years ago. The kid didn’t even cry when his parents finally separated. He was relieved, if anything. But this was different. He had finally broken too.
