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Josie noticed.

She said nothing.

That helped more than asking would have.

I pressed the side button and dismissed the notification without reading it.

The world continued.

The mare kept her blue tail. The sun remained on one roller skate. Butterbean’s crown slipped over one eye.

“That was hard,” Josie said quietly.

“Yes.”

“You did it.”

I picked up the green pen. “I did.”

She added another blade of grass.

No praise that turned the moment into a test. No question about what the message contained. No reassurance I would then have to receive correctly.

She simply stayed on the floor.

I realized, with the slow shock of discovering something obvious, that Josie did not need me to be competent for her.

She did not need a recommendation, a booking, a solution, or a crisis plan. If I spilled the water, she would probably hand me a cloth. If I cried, she would sit there. If I changed my mind about the drawing, she would give me another sheet of paper.

It was the first friendship I had ever had where being useful was optional.

The knowledge made my throat tighten.

I gave Petey Cow a flowered apron so I would not have to say anything.

Josie watched me color one pocket pink.

“Priya?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you came back.”

My pen stopped.

She kept her eyes on her paper. Soft-spoken even here, but not hidden.

“I’m glad too.”

“Cash was awful.”

“While I was gone?”

“He smiled too much.”

I understood exactly what she meant.

“I’m sorry.”