I took a picture.
Caleb noticed.
He looked at my phone.
Then at me.
I lowered it.
“Sorry.”
He shrugged.
Nobody said anything else.
But that was the beginning of something Caleb had already understood before we did.
His illness was turning every normal thing into an event.
A week later, a woman named Lydia Grant came from the fictional Bright Horizon Wish Foundation.
She wore sneakers.
Caleb liked her immediately.
She sat beside his bed and asked:
“If you could choose one day that was completely yours, what would you do?”
I expected something enormous.
Meet the quarterback.
Fly somewhere.
