“Dum spiro, spero.” I circled that phrase in my paperback. I know he took Latin in college, but I ask anyway, “You know what that means—” “‘While I breathe,’” he translates, “‘I hope.’” It overwhelms me. Hope. Him. Love. Pain. I inch closer, but a knock sounds at the door. We both rub our wet faces, and as our bloodshot eyes meet again, I know and he knows that what we share is greater and stronger than whatever the world has to throw at us. We won’t end here.
