Evidence.
Treatments.
Fear.
But also…
conversations.
Uncomfortable.
Honest.
Sometimes we cried.
Sometimes we got angry.
But we were no longer silent.
And one night…
while we were watching TV without actually watching it…
Javier put his hand on mine.
Without thinking.
Without fear.
As before.
I turned.
And he smiled.
Slightly.
“I don’t know how much time we have,” he said.
“Neither do I.
