Den norska bokbloggaren “Flukten fra virkeligheten” har varje söndag en rolig liten utmaning där man ska skriva ner en liten smakbit av boken man läser för tillfället. Jag läser just nu bland annat Everything, Everything av Nicola Yoon.

Handling:
My disease is as rare as it is famous. Basically, I’m allergic to the world. I don’t leave my house, have not left my house in seventeen years. The only people I ever see are my mom and my nurse, Carla.

But then one day, a moving truck arrives next door. I look out my window, and I see him. He’s tall, lean and wearing all black—black T-shirt, black jeans, black sneakers, and a black knit cap that covers his hair completely. He catches me looking and stares at me. I stare right back. His name is Olly.

Maybe we can’t predict the future, but we can predict some things. For example, I am certainly going to fall in love with Olly. It’s almost certainly going to be a disaster.

—

”Carla, you don’t have to-”
”Shush, listen to me. I’ve been thinking this over. I could see this new thing was weighing down on you, but I know you’re going to be all right.”
”I’m not so sure.”
”That’s OK. I can be sure for both of us. We’ve been together in this house for fifteen years, so I know what I’m talking about. When I first started with you I thought it was only a matter of time before depression would take you over. And there was that one summer when it came close, but it didn’t happen. Every day you get up and learn something new. Every day you find something to be happy about. Every single day you have a smile for me. You worry more about your mother than you do about yourself.
I don’t think Carla has ever said this many words all at once.
”My own Rosa,” she continues, but then stops. She leans back and closes her eyes in the grip of some emotion I don’t understand. ”My Rosa could learn a thing or two from you. She has everything I could give her, but she thinks she has nothing.”
I smile. Carla complains about her daughter, but I can tell she spoils her as much as she can.
She opens her eyes, and whatever was bothering her passes. ”You see, there’s that smile again.” She pats my leg. ”Life is hard, honey. Everyone finds a way.”