He gave Steve a smile. "Had to find the good stuff where we could. Steve was sick a lot of the time, either with a cold or sometimes worse, but it seemed like he did a little better around his birthday. Wasn't too hot, wasn't too cold. So when the fourth rolled around, I'd give him that joke, buy us some stuff from the street vendors - little bit of a treat. Hotdogs, popcorn, ice cream. I think we had more fun then than on Christmas."

Christmas had been nice enough, but it was always cold. When it was cold, it was easier for Steve to get sick. To catch pneumonia, cough himself almost into a heart attack... He'd hugged Steve through it a lot of the time, holding a pillow against his chest while he coughed to keep his ribs from ending up bruised or broken. All his handkerchiefs had been stained - sometimes just with the gunk from his lungs but sometimes with blood. He'd slept for weeks sitting up with Steve leaning on him just so he could breathe through the night. All that could turn Christmas into something easy to gloss over. Summer was better.