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He stands beside Mr. and Mrs. Hart at the funeral.

That's surprising. Ephram thought he'd be beside his dad. Or maybe Amy. But when he arrived, black suit neatly pressed and shoes cleaned, he'd taken one look at Amy and just, couldn't approach her.  Not that he was upset, not that she was daunting.  It just didn't feel like the place he should be.

And he'd had to walk. His dad was at home watching Flinestones cartoons or something.

Mrs. Hart says, "thank you for coming" with a small little smile, after the formal service. Then she says what Ephram's been dreading.  "I thought we might." He steels himself for what's coming. "We were expecting your father."

Ephram shrugs inside his formal suit.  It's hot and uncomfortable.  "Yeah, well," and he tries to bite back anything angry.  Manages to smile fairly apologetically.  "I think he was half-afraid to come."

She glances at her husband for a moment.  "He doesn't think," and clears her throat.  "We don't blame him," she tells Ephram.  "Would you please tell him that?"

Ephram looks at her, and says in a small voice, "I will."

They move off, and he's grateful.

Looks up, and Amy's still standing by the graveside as everyone else is moving away.  All through the service, Amy was standing alone, a little ways apart from everyone else there.  Her father came up to her and she moved off, her mother tried to stroke her hair and still she wouldn't be near them.

Ephram catches her eye for just the briefest moment.  She stares at him, something maybe a little desperate in her face, and he turns away.