I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

“Are there TVs in this place?”
I nod. “Do you want to watch something?”
Neo shrugs. “Okay.”
TV rights are an expensive commodity. Sick kids get the perks when
no one else is around. Eric’s generosity (and desperate attempts to
get us to leave him alone) win us the remote.
Neo and I watch movies all night. During, Neo chews on his apple
and spits into the trash when he thinks I’m not looking. Out of the
room, distracted, he seems more at ease. If there’s one nice thing
about books and movies, it’s that they can make you forget for a
while.
Forgetting is an essential part of grief.
When I see Neo the next morning, I lay a copy of The Great Gatsby
in his cardboard box and kick it under his bed.
That ever-suspicious brow of his rises. “I didn’t give you that.”
“I took it from the library.”
“You stole it?”
“I suppose.”
“Weirdo.”
“Can I read your stories now?”
“I don’t write stories.”
My head snaps in his direction. Never has one of Neo’s sentences
quite broken my heart till that one.