“Matti, you’ve been destroying yourself. You’re not fine.” “It’s not that bad,” Matti said, but weakly. He thought of the physician’s contemplative silence when Matti talked about his dizziness and nausea. “Fine means normal. Fine means I’m coping. And I am, it just feels as though…” He struggled, moving his hand in an effort to pluck the right words out of the air. Luca bent one leg up, one arm wrapped around it. He rubbed his mouth on his own knee as though clearing dust from it to make way for something. Then he looked down at Matti. “It feels like you’re in a box,” Luca said. “Not a cage.
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