Verruca and The Wildlings — Ep9: Forever, The Sun
Isolation frustration has set in. Some are hit harder than others. It’s just another day.
The SHOE had successfully torn physical connections apart in a strategic effort to restrict further contagion. Consequences weren’t far behind. The MHV (Much-Hyped Virus) continued to spread anyway, and humans became emotionally alienated. Their thoughts on loneliness and existential dread intensified. It was strange to witness. My girl curled up in a ball and ugly-cried over the touch she hasn’t had in months. How must it feel to want something so bad and not have it?
There was a knock on the door.
“Hey silly, are you ok? I can hear you sobbing in there and it’s disturbing the neighbourhood. I made tea.” Cora stood by Pix’s door with a pot and two cups. Pixel let her in.
“Was I really loud? …I’m having a moment.”
“You’ve been having this moment for some mornings. You want to talk about it?”
It was still dark and there was a chill in the morning wind.
“It’s been months since the last time I was kissed or touched. I miss the feeling of being wanted and adored…” Pix trailed off and buried her face in her hands. “…and now I feel stupid for wanting external validation.”
“Is it external validation, though? Touch is a human language. It’s the language we use when words fail us; when our emotions are too big for our voice. Even islands are kissed by The Sun, embraced by the water, caressed by the wind.”
“I don’t want this longing. I’m only partially crying because I’m touch-deprived. I’m crying because I’m angry because I can’t shut it off. I meditate for an hour and I’m sweet for three hours. I run for an hour, I’m functional for another two hours. Then I’m burning again. It’s frustrating, this uncontrollable, overwhelming desire to be felt, to be reminded that I’m alive inside my shell.” They sat in silence for a while. Pixel had a thought:
“I envy The Sun. It burns because that is its nature. It burns for Itself only, never wanting. When I exit this life I will not return. I will join The Sun — up there, supporting life down here but not really being in the thick of it.”
A giant bubble of snot grew and then burst from Pix’s nosehole. She wiped it with her blanket. Cora gave her a hug. Sunlight penetrated the windows in the room, an invitation to Start Again. The girls carried on with the day.