I’m on the roof, the constellation of street lights and advertising signs gradually losing its brilliance to the sunrise. The sky is every shade of bruise, the volume turning up on the traffic, down on birdsong.
“What do you say?”
He’s been silent so long, I almost forgot he’s sitting beside me. But he’s always known when to whisper, when to roar.
My throat is dry and I wonder if we’ve been here mere hours or whether he made the world turn slower, just for me.
“All of it?” I say.
I can smell him, the sun and the city heat peeling scent from his body, sending it into the world.
“All of it,” he says.
I reach for what I’m about to give up, but feel nothing. Who knows what it is to have a soul until it’s lost.
With my last breath I say, “I’ll take it.”