Page 14 of Sing it, Sam

His shoulders drop as he huffs air out his nose. “Me.”

“Is that why they call you Mr Trouble?” I ask, hoping to bring a smile back to his face.

“Ha,” he scoffs. “Funny that. My dad used to say that ‘trouble’ was my middle name.”

“It’s not, is it?” I joke.

“Nah, it’s Dylan.”

“Well, Sam Dylan Marshall, I’d better get back to work.” I stand and fetch my bag before turning back to him. “And for the record, I kind of like trouble.”

“’Kay,” he says, and angles his wheelchair to face the window.

Do I wish him a good weekend? Will it be any different to his Monday-through-Friday though?

“I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?” I say and smile.

“You know I’ll be here.”

As I leave his room, I find myself hoping for Sam’s sake that the weekend moves fast.

---