I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

“Oh, good.” The wind accompanies a voice. I turn around to an
ocean’s scent and umbre blues foaming at a shoreline. “You’re
awake.”
Sitting next to me, staring at a different scenery, a boy cups a tiny
potted plant with the sleeves of a stolen sweatshirt.
“Is this a dream?” I ask.
He nods.
“I’ve never been in someone’s dream before.”
“I don’t think it’s my dream,” he says. “I think it’s yours too. Like two
paintings intersecting past their frames.”
I stare back at the field, the life and the light within it, then I turn back
to his endless sea, its tart scent, and its clouds brewing in the far
distance.
“I want to bring Coeur here,” he says. “It’s secluded and, other than
the waves, completely silent.” He points to the undisturbed waters
and dark sand. I look instead at his face as he speaks. His mouth
parts slightly, the corners lifting at the thought of C walking along the
stones with him in hand.
“He’d adore the beaches in France too,” he says. “He’s never been
there, I know, but his parents have, obviously, so they could take us.
People can be spacey in Europe, just like him. There’s this library in
Paris I want to show him. He’d take pictures of it like a tourist.” A bit
of amusement plays in his tone. He fidgets with the succulent,
placing it delicately between us as if it contains a soul with which to
watch the tide drawing in.
“Neo,” I say, breaking him out of his daydreams. “Where are we?”
He hugs his knees to his chest, and thinks for a moment.