I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

They’re learning to work around an unbent spine. “Some people
write so their name will be bigger than the title,” he says.
Neo is a good writer, even if he doesn’t believe it. He makes me feel
despite the fact that I don’t remember how. Even Shakespeare
doesn’t have that power.
I know his stories can do that for people who need it. One day.
Neo’s weight shifts away from me. He stands on the balls and heels
of his feet, upright. A breath shakes through him from ankles to neck.
Despite the lack of him, he is able to stand, no butterfly rash or
swelling to be seen.
“You’re getting better,” I say.
Neo stiffens. He leans his weight back onto my arms, clutching them.
“I’m not leaving, Sam.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
His fingers detach from me mechanically. He settles back on his
unmade bed in easy steps.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask. His face is scrunched up, more than
usual.
“No.” He grabs the papers on his side table, his pen too. “I have to fix
Sony’s escape plan. It’s straight out of an action movie.” When he
says Sony’s name, his eyes wander to the neon sleeves pulled over
his knuckles. She isn’t with us now. She can’t be. Some turmoils of
one-lungedness have to be handled alone.
Maybe not alone. Maybe just with a cat.
The color catches Neo off-guard. He puts his hand on his chest and
breathes in a little deeper to feel it rise and fall.