Two men sit close to a webcam. They are both in tears. The man on the left, who has stubble and a soft quiff of hair, presses a thumb into his eye socket, as if to try and push the tears back in, and laughs. “Why are we crying?”
“I know it’s the process, and I know it’s the way it has to go,” the darker-haired man at his side says, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening, “but you always feel like you’ve done something wrong.”
