Five Feet Apart

by Rachael Lippincott

I wonder, all too often, what it would be like to have lungs this healthy. This alive. I take a deep breath, feeling the air fight its way in and out of my body.

If I’m going to die, I’d like to actually live first.

I know in that moment, even though it could not be more ridiculous, that if I die in there, I won’t die without falling in love.

I’m tired of living without really living. I’m tired of wanting things. We can’t have a lot of things. But we could have this.

“Cystic fibrosis will steal no more from me. From now on, I am the thief.”

I didn’t know it was possible for a person to make old things become new again.

my whole body cold from the snow, but warm from the moment.

“We need that touch from the one we love, almost as much as we need air to breathe. I never understood the importance of touch, his touch . . . until I couldn’t have it.”