A Place in the Sun

I walked in the sun today.

It felt like warm wax, melting on my skin, and as I stepped into the daylight and out of the shadows, I was reborn. I felt naked, standing there in the warmth, regardless of the fact that my clothing was soaking wet and hung heavily on me. My eyes, so used to imitation light, burned briefly while I blinked owlishly into the glare.

I smelled her everywhere. The light from the yellow ball of fire in the sky gave off a scent that was uniquely her, and I knew I had been right all along that she belonged in the sunshine. But the sun would never shine as brightly as she did.

I walked away from them all, Oz and Cordelia and Doyle, and they kept their respectful distance while I wandered down the beach. The ocean, so black and angry at night, was a soft blue-gray that no artist’s rendering could have ever captured. The sand made me squint, the sun’s reflection on it was nearly as bright as the sun itself, and I wanted to lay down and roll in it like a puppy would have.

For two hundred years, there had been darkness, and now there was light. I wanted to sob out my joy, standing there on the beach, and I stretched my arms high to the sky and closed my eyes.

I searched all day long. Aimlessly, I made my way off the warm sand and ventured into the city, continuously amazed by minor details, such as the lack of headlights shining from the cars as they sped by. I searched, among the buildings and the scenery that was Los Angeles.

After a time, I took off my jacket, keenly aware of the sun warming my cool skin, feeling as if I were in a bath of fragrant water, and I still searched for something nameless among the people and busyness that was Los Angeles.

I did nothing but walk slowly all day long. I returned briefly to the beach, thinking that maybe the search would end where it began, but the empty, questing feeling remained. I reached down and retrieved a small, smooth shell, and put it deep in my pocket. It would be my reminder of my time in the sun. Staring at the ocean while it pulled the fire of the sun into it, an uneasy feeling began from the dark place of my soul, and I grew restless.

I could not find what I was looking for, and I did not belong in the sun. I returned to the rooftop of my building, watching intently as the sun succumbed to the horizon, and even Doyle’s appearance did not irritate me. He watched me silently as I crushed the Gem of Amarra beneath a solid brick, and though there were a thousand questions in his eyes, he stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

The truth of it was, I was searching for her. We were sharing the same daylight. She should have been there with me, as I walked in the sun, as it melted like soft honey over my pale face and cool body. She should have been there, and my soul knew it, and so I searched fruitlessly through a city that was dark even in the daytime.

I couldn’t find her. I would never find her. I could spend the rest of my wretched, damned life in the healing powers of the sun, and I would never find her. A day spent in the sunlight was more punishment than reward, for a cursed soul like me, and I did not belong in the glow of the living. My sunshine, my real, true sunshine, did not come from the day.

My place in the sun was with her.

The End