Page 10 of Ghost Ribbon

Proud.

Foolish.

Beautiful.

I usually saw humans as clumps of cells that needed to be studied, but when I looked at him, I didn’t analyse him. I just saw a human being, small and sick and impossibly bright.

“You should go back.”

“To the hospital?”

“Yes.”

He made a face, his nose wrinkling with disgust. “You sound like a doctor.”

“You look like you are going to collapse.”

“I’m not.”

“You are sweating.”

“It is warm.”

“It is cold.”

He looked offended by the evidence, as though my observation were a personal betrayal.

Then a shiver passed through him.

Small, but I saw it, the way his shoulders twitched, the way his skin pebbled, the way his jaw tightened to stop his teeth from chattering.

Marco wrapped his arms around himself.

“I only wanted to see the garden,” he whispered, and the bright thing in his voice dimmed again. “I only wanted to see the lemon trees and the stars.”

For some reason, I hated the way his voice changed when he said it.

I hated the fact that something so small could want something so simple and still have to steal it. That a boy had to run from a hospital in the middle of the night just to see the sky.

I stood.

“Are you leaving?”

“No.” I removed my jacket and draped it over his shoulders.

It swallowed him. The sleeves fell past his hands. The black fabric made him look even smaller. His eyes widened.

“This is very nice.”

“It is a jacket.”

“It is a very nice jacket.” He ran his fingers over the fabric with something like wonder. “It is soft.”

“You are cold.”

“You are cold too.”

“No.” I was never cold. The emptiness inside me didn’t register temperature the way other people did. He looked at me with sudden seriousness, his small face solemn.