"Has it always been this cold here?" Has it? The thing is I don't know.
"You're cold?" As if it's not obvious by the way you rub your hands together, it made you chuckle. I follow the motion, rubbing my hands together to get my useless hands to do something.
"Yeah. You are not?" Am I? Again, I don't know. "Is it because I'm not living healthily? Well, both my college and job are draining me physically. I barely hit the gym."
I shrug, and at that, you chuckle. "Maybe you're just not used to the wind," your eyes stay up ahead on the road we're taking. The lamp street illuminates the cracked asphalt under us. There's a pit.
"We used to jump over every pit we passed by," says you as you jump with your slender legs that are wrapped with dark jeans. "Pretending there were sharks and sea monkeys there."
"Why sea monkeys?" I ask as I hop to the other side of the small pit before proceeding to walk beside you. The puddle left an abstract stain on my pants.
You snicker slightly before answering, "Maybe because they're not real. We were young anyway, who knows how kids' brains work?" The vast green field on the other side of the road we're taking stretches far out until my eyes can't make the end of it, looks like it's taking forever to reach it, spreading far until it reaches the moon. I want to try to take a walk there one day. To reach the end of it, someday. "Maybe because it's easier to think of it that way," you continue.
"How?" The noises of our steps slowly died down under the chirping crickets. Our breaths. The wind and laughter from some fields away. Some cows mooing, maybe it's their mating season. I refuse to fret over it too much.
"That it was easier to make something up to make a point, to feel like we might know something, and then we didn't have to deal with the not knowing. That we knew that they were not real therefore there was nothing to be afraid of," the smell of wet grass gets mixed with the oxygen I inhale as the breeze blows over us.
"I feel like I've read that somewhere," the amusement in your eyes as we pass another street lamp sends a buzz inside my stomach. How the sharp edges of your eyes softly turn into a crescent moon-like from how wide you are smiling. From how genuine it is.
