Ben was the engineer. His posts were quiet, sparse—mostly close-ups of circuit boards, clean workstations, scribbled math on napkins. One photo caught Vincent off guard: Ben at a robotics competition, grinning wide with a medal around his neck. Caption: “Built something that finally worked. Mom cried.” So did Vincent.
Ben lived in San Diego, worked for a tech startup, and rode his bike everywhere. In one blurry picture, he stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. “Always move forward,” the caption read. Vincent muttered, “Of course you do,” and flagged him: maybe. Quiet, logical. Could go either way.