What’s it like?
What’s, what like?
Being touched.
What’s it like being out in the sun?
Oh.
Well?
Well, what?
Answer mine and I’ll answer yours
Okay.
So? The sun?
It’s gold. Warm.
Gold?
Yellow. Bright. Powerful. It hurts. You can’t look at it long. It burns.
Burns.
It can be beautiful though.
Is it always warm?
No. Sometimes, even with the sun out, it can be cold. Bitter. A different kind of hurt.
Is it ever just pleasant? Will it always hurt?
Most of the time it’s nice. You forget that you’re out in the sun at all. It’s just the light bulb in the sky.
Oh.
What were you expecting?
I don’t know.
The sun isn’t magical or mystical. It’s just a thing that’s there and it won’t be in some years. But, we’ll be gone before then
I see.
So, being touched?
Depends.
On what?
The touches.
They’re different kinds?
Oh yeah.
Excuse me my ignorance.
It can be nice. Like, if it’s a lover caressing your skin. Subtle touches. It can be calming or send you to a place of pleasure.
Oh yeah?
Or if it’s a parent. It’s comforting. Like, after having a bad day or you fall off something. They hug you. They wrap their arms around you and it’s like, you can feel them transferring love.
That sounds lovely.
But then it be bad. Bad touches. When you don’t want it.
It sounds so nice. Why wouldn’t you want to be touched?
Because sometimes you just don’t. It can hurt.
It can?
Yeah.
Sometimes I pretend I can hold your hand.
Sometimes I pretend I’m standing out in the sun.
Are you alone?
You’re there.
I can hear them. They come so early now.
It’ll be fine. We have tomorrow.
I’m squeezing your hand.
I’m holding you in the sunlight.