TWENTY THREE

The sound of birds chirping from the window wakes me up. Then when I move, I feel a holding my hand. I look down, it's Simon's. He's seated in a chair next to the bed. His face the other direction but I know his messy brown hair. It's his. I always know. I can't help but smile that he's here. My hand reaches out to touch his strands and smooth the ones that are sticking out.

I miss touching his hair. I could barely do this. It always feels like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of chance.

He stirs and turns to me. He pulls his hand right away like he's not supposed to do that. Right. He's not supposed to. I just forgot about Cooper for a few good minutes.

“Good morning.” He sits upright. “How are you feeling?” He doesn't sound worried like Cooper or my father. It's like he already knows I would feel better, eventually.

“Better than yesterday.” I say. “Why's your hair get so messy in the morning?”

He laughs at himself. And reaches up to fix his hair like he's embarrassed. “Says the one wi