I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

When you’re underwater there’s nothing to think about except your
own body. There are voices, but you can’t make out what they’re
saying. There is a barrier, crystal clear, between you and the people
you used to know. And they are people you used to know. The
moment someone realizes you’re going to
die, they will not treat you the same way as if you were going to live.
Bouquets are no longer gardens, and those who tend to them don’t
know what it’s like to drown.
Of course, there are exceptions.
“Why the hell were you on a step ladder?” Eric asks, dabbing the cut
on my forearm with hydrogen peroxide.
“That clock is broken.” I point to the space above the doorway. Just
below, a corpse of a step ladder lies on its side, a soldier fallen in
battle. Granted, I should’ve probably had someone hold it for me, but
I’m short-staffed in the non-physically impaired friends department. “I
was stealing it.”
Eric pulls my arm further over the counter to get a better look.
“Why?”
“For my Hamlet.”
“I’m not even going to ask what that means. And haven’t you little
pests stolen enough? Your rooms might as well be storage facilities
for broken crap.”
“It’s the only way to kill our enemies,” I remind him.
He flicks my forehead. “Save it. That dramatic shit doesn’t work with
me.”
“I’m not dramatic.”
“You’re all dramatic. Especially you.”