Lies of a Story Teller

Matter

I wrote this because of something I read on Filigree's page a few weeks ago. She gave me a new perspective on what it's like to be an aitheist (which I don't even have an inkling of understanding about) and this is what I would like to give her in return. 

-FlyOn97

            It was night time. He was sitting on a hill slide, his knees pulled up to his chin. Orange and blue city lights twinkled below him, a shameful imitation of the night sky, so obscured by brownish smog. He looked content, despite the cool mountain air.

“Hey you,” she said, approaching from behind.

“Hi,” he said simply. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes,” she answered. She sat down next to him in the dirt, wrapped both of her arms around his forearm, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Finally. It's too noisy inside for her. I gave her a bottle and got her to stop crying. I texted you and told you to come hold her for a while, you know."

“Sorry,” he said. “I was distracted.”

“Why don’t you come inside? It’s warmer. And they have cake and punch and things.”

He shrugged lightly. “I was starting to feel crowded.”

“Should I leave? So you can do your thinking in private?”

“No,” he said, looking at her long enough to give her a sweet kiss. “I want you here most of all.” He turned back to staring at the city below them.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell that you’re thinking. You have your thinking face on.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I’m like an open book, huh?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But really more like an open book with a bunch of pages ripped out.” She paused, considering. “And it’s written by an old author than nobody has ever heard of. And it’s in Greek.”

He laughed, a crooked grin playing on his face. “How do you read anything, then?”

“I’m learning Greek,” she answered easily. They kissed again.

They sat in silence for a little while, her huddling against him. Car horns honked below, lights flashed and beamed across the sky, and life carried on.

“Do you think any of it matters?” he asked finally.

She looked at him, a look of half disapproval and half amusement distorting her heart shaped face. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all this time? Philosophical nonsense?”

“Not nonsense,” he said. “Questions.”

“Call it what you like,” she intoned. “It’s all nonsense in the end.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, looking a little bit put out. “Fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry. What kind of questions?”

He shrugged, faking indifference. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Didn’t I say I was sorry? Go ahead. Ask away. Tell me all about the world’s problems.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s just that. . .” he paused, unsure of how to move on. “Like that car over there. Do you see it? The one coming up the hill away from town?”

“Uh-huh. I see it,” she said seeing the twin specks of light in the distance. “What about it?”

“There’s a person driving that car. And in that person is feeling, thought, connections, opinions.”