Elias didn't say thank you. The word was too small, too light to carry the weight of what had just passed between them.
The stranger was an old mountain man, his face a roadmap of deep weather-lines. His eyes were closed, his breathing a wet whistle. 8. When We Are in Need
“Elias,” she whispered. Her voice was like dry leaves scraping over stone. He didn't look up. “I’m here.” “The soup,” she said. “It was good.” Elias didn't say thank you