The Heat

I closed my eyes and grinned.

I had breathed life into Sydney when I saved her from herself at the bank. In turn, she had breathed life into me in the hospital; the day she whispered in my ear. Both of us acted not for reward or recognition, but out of a natural desire to be kind. One we certainly always possessed, but rarely exhibited toward others.

“You know,” she said as she wiped the warm cloth over my hips and thighs. “If you have two broken cars, or two broken toys, you can take the two broken objects and make one working one? Like use the pieces from one to fix the other?”

She paused and held the washcloth in her hand as she waited on my response. Having no idea what point she was trying to make, I smiled and nodded my head.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well,” she paused and wiped the clean side of the washcloth along my sweats, “As individuals, we’re both broken. I think together, maybe we’ll make a complete, unbroken us.”

“Let’s just take a shower together,” I said as I painfully watche