Sunlight

He was sitting on the bench in this small park, watching people come and go. Single mothers with a baby cart, gay couple with a lively golden retriever, kids playing baseball. They were all there to enjoy the sunlight of the mid spring in Berlin, whereas he was not.

He was born with this mysterious disease that subjected him to an extreme level of photosensitivity. He was never allowed to go to the beach for his skin started burning after five minutes’ exposure to sunlight. His all time nickname remained “mummy” or “the serial killer,” for he had always been covered with layers of clothing protecting him from the sunlight. One might exclaim: how pathetic to lead a life like that! Never being able to enjoy the sunlight! However, he didn’t find it a completely undesirable life. All he had to do was avoiding the sunlight and the night was full of wonders. He loved the very fact that while people stayed home at night, snoring on bed, he was the one out for adventures. He was the hero of the night. Lonesome maybe, but all heroes are lonesome.

Last night, as he was on his usual quest of outing at night, he met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Sandy hair, gray eye, tempestuous smile, she was the goddess of the night. She did not care for him, just like all femme fatale treated men like dirt. She did, however, asked him to meet her up in the middle of the day: to show your sincerity, said she. “Then we’ll see how things work out.”

So there he was, sitting on the bench under the burning sunlight of the noon. He felt himself burning but he didn’t care, for it was no comparison with the burning desire that he wanted to see her again. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes. He felt himself shrinking, decaying, and finally, disappearing. She was nowhere to be seen. 20 minutes, he lost his sight, but it was ok, he could recognize her footsteps with his extremely sensitive ears. 25 minutes, he lost his hearing as well and she missed the appointment. 30 minutes, he could not feel his existence anymore. He wanted to cry out but lost his voice as well. 35 minutes, he vanished, left the world with a whimper. The goddess of the night was still nowhere to be seen.

“What’s that, Papa?” asked a little boy licking ice cream. “It’s a pile of dirty laundry. I can’t believe people just leave it here like that. Let’s go.” Said the father.

The sun was setting and people were leaving the park. The bench was empty except for the stack of shroud he left for the indifferent world.