The Wish

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How would you describe ‘distance’?”

“The word?”

“Yes, the concept.”

“I would say it is space.”

“Between?”

“Between whatever. There can even be space between spaces.”

“And why does it hurt so much?”

“Because you fill it with emptiness. It hurts because emptiness is full of possibilities, and either they are not at reach or you’re not stretching enough.”

“And how can I do that?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yea, go for it.”

“How would you describe ‘distance’?”

“The concept?”

“No, the feeling.”

“It’s…” Sigh. “It’s the memory of something that never happened. A daydream. It’s faces, voices, smells, names. Things that are not there. But still they hurt. There are good distances. Rebirth, growth. There are bad distances – the good memories. And there is the distance between possibilities. The distance between what you are doing and what you could be doing. The distance between you and yourself. The one that lies, that slips through your fingertips. The one that makes you cry and hell, why not, smile. The one between what you say and what I wish you would. The one between me and you.”

“That is called time.”

“And of that we don’t have that much, do we?”

“As much as we want.”