text: A response to the following prompt: *You are stuck living in the void with a banished immortal. You don’t know why they were banished, but you try your best to make their days less lonesome.* \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ You don't walk in the void, you really can't do much of anything. You would think that when existence gets stripped of its fancy clothes it would become more simple, an unloading of sorts, but it is quite the opposite. Existence is one of those really funny things that becomes more confusing the more time you spend with it. I'm beginning to feel that society as a whole is just one big attempt at running away from the enigma of living. I don't remember how I ended up in the void, nor does my neighbor. It's the type of thing you forget after a while, a physical fact that ethers away with the rest of the things that you could once grab. "How long have we been here?" I asked the phantom once. "I can't remember." "I think about this a lot," replied it. "I think that's an impossible question." We often dance these type of conversations together, utterly meaningless in all senses of the word, but we too want to forget we exist, even if that's all we have. "How did you come to that conclusion?" "I propose two pieces of evidence. The first being that we have both forgotten about time, so proof inside of tangible evidence, and the other being that time requires things to stick itself to. Time is like the ripples in a pond or lake, following things that misbehave inside of the water's still beauty." "Are we not doing such now?" "I think we are the water." Then we disappear into silence again, questions and answers followed by deep quite. I would tell you for long we'd be quite for, but I think we just established that such a question is beyond me personally. Sometimes I struggle to recall what I was before the oblivion. In my frustration I ask my friend, who I've become quite dear to, about theirs. "What were you before this?" "That's a little complicated." "I think we could use a little bit of that now." "Well, I still am what I was, so I can't tell you without being bare." "That's not true, everything changes. What were you?" "You change, even in a place where time finds a hiding spot, you are changing more than you know. But me? No, I don't change. I suppose you could call it my curse, among other things." It didn't sound like a curse to me, but I understood that my apparitional friend probably knew more about such subjects than myself. I was feeling less and less competent with every conversation, as void moved to void and time spun with hands I did feel quite different. I knew one thing though, this poor spirit had been here longer than me, and that made me sad. As I changed, in whatever way I did, I took it upon my duty to try and keep my friend company. That was all they had. "Hey, have you ever lost anything special to you?" "Anything?" "Well, it could be a person too I guess. Just anything that left its mark on you." "Too many to count." "And that hasn't changed you?" "... Can I tell you something?" I was excited at this prospect, it felt like theatre in a dark room. Granted, I was feeling very very strange at this point, and was having trouble focusing on my neighbor, but I gave it my all. "Please." "I don't know if you've ever thought about this, but what would you say if I told you life was like the rain. Pulled down from those abundant clouds and splattered onto the ground in violent, unpredictable ways. Not because it needs to rain, or because something is making it rain, but merely because water let loose will fall. What would you think about that?" I was in a weird trance, a strange dizzy that felt like thick fog, but I still heard. "I'd say... I'd ask how life came back to the clouds." "Well, there's a sun. A sun that soaks them back up to be used again. Not killing the rain, you can't do that. But just turning it back to mist, so that it can fall once again." Dizzy, "Wha... What?" "I'm sorry, this is confusing, but I like you a lot. You've given me such good company. Just do me a favor and next time you see the sun, remember how sad it is that it has to melt even the most lovely snowflakes back into air..." I lost sound of my friend. Strange feeling of dizzy, not scary. I'm not scared. I'm not... I need to talk to my friend. He'll be lonely, poor soul... Dizzy... Was I? Was I helping him? No... Dizzy... I feel... Cloudy...