“You and Nick?” He scrutinizes me closely. “So everything is white?” It takes me a moment to remember the color from Sy’s journal. “...white is healthy, renewal, clarity.” I lift my hand to brush his hair from his eyes. The platinum hair—the white hair—which I now realize hasn't been bleached to death for the sake of a fashion statement. He’s covering his head in white, as if it could fix him, as if it could make him— Healthy. Renewed. Clear.
