The Shape of Hope

 Ulisses pressed himself against the wall to spy on the revelation that was about to unfold. Phillipe had covered the workbench with a cloth to hide the surprise. He was the one enjoying the whole setup the most. Leônidas, meanwhile, had remained skeptical the entire time. He had given up hope that they would meet again, when Phillipe called, insisting that he come over. Despite wanting to decline the invitation, the insistence that it was important moved him to go.

 Whatever it was, the bicycle workshop was the place he was led to. The item was hidden beneath a cloth. The laughter gave away that it was something unusual. Leônidas was too tired to keep up with the game. Phillipe didn’t know the exhaustion he had faced that afternoon in solitude. He was growing impatient with the whole setup. He reached out and, all at once, pulled the cloth away.

 It took a few seconds for him to grasp the magnitude of the gesture. Phillipe had to hold him up so he wouldn’t collapse. Leônidas nearly lost his balance from the emotion. His skin turned pale, and he trembled uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his face, unnoticed and unstoppable. Catching him off guard like that seemed almost unfair, striking at the core of his emotions, overwhelmed by immense enthusiasm and relief... There were few words that could do the moment justice.

 In a flash, he understood. It had come from Phillipe’s hands. He was the one who had done it. There was no doubt. Without formality, he embraced him, thanking him over and over, pressing his face against Phillipe’s with all the force of his feelings. Because never, in all his life, had anyone done something so grand for him. He felt breathless, unable to understand how someone could choke on so much happiness. It was far more than it appeared to be. It was as if life, at last, delivered the justice he had always hoped for. And so, the boy whose tears had dried too soon was finally allowed to break through the barrier of his deepest fears through compassion.

 The prosthesis that had broken. He had planned to try and get it repaired, but couldn’t find anyone who could do the work. It never occurred to him that Phillipe might take on such a task. Phillipe had made the modifications in a way that interpreted the object as part of Leônidas’s very essence. He had gathered the pieces that lived in his spirit and turned them into matter.

 Through great effort, he had achieved it. His mother’s savings were spent on this project, which was, above all, the fulfillment of a profound desire. He had owned other models before that one, but his growing body had rendered them unusable. He hadn’t told Phillipe that story to spare him the pain it might bring. The end of a dark night, a streak of unstoppable light set ablaze. In that moment, it felt like dreams could come true.

 At their age, they already knew enough of life to recognize its fears, persuaded by misfortunes, if not blessed by luck. Whether it was what they hoped to become or the compensation needed to find true peace, having something to believe in had become a shield against the bitterness brought by hardship.

 When the prosthesis was damaged, Rachel feared that Leônidas would die of heartbreak. Ulisses interrupted them. They realized the man, too, had been moved by the discovery. On one occasion, he invited Leônidas to stay for dinner. In the time that followed, the boy decided it was only fair to tell Phillipe how the disorder had come upon him.