(open on a person sitting on the ledge of an apartment building looking at a sunset)
(a person comes up next to them)
A{person that came up}: It's quite a view, isn't it?
J{person first sitting there}: Yeah. It is. Was it always this nice?
A: I think so. Maybe not in the same way but always so pretty.
J: Why are you up here?
A: Why are you?
J: To see.
A: See what? I wouldn't think the view because you'd know if it was a nice view if you were up here to see it.
J: To see if I could.
A: Come up here? The stairs are open to everyone.
J: If I could get down from here.
A: Again the stairs.
(A long silence from J)
A: But that's not what you mean.
J: No.
A: So what do you mean?
J: You know.
(a prompting nod from A)
J: Jump.
A: Of course you could. Just one quick push and *whistle*.
J: Yeah, but if I actually could. Like, mentally.
A: No. You can't, or won't, at least tonight.
J: What?
A: You're still looking out at the view. The sunset between the hills framed by the buildings on either side. The park seeming to sit right at the edge of the horizon. You haven't taken your eyes off it.
J: So?
A: If you did, you'd notice.
J: Notice what?
A: That the door locks from the outside when it isn't propped open, which you didn't do, and that none of the cars have moved in a while.
J: So how did you get up here?
A: I just did. I just do.
J: You still didn't say what you're doing up here. Or, as a matter of fact, who you are.
A: I am whoever you think I am. And I'm here because you are. No other reason.
J: Why?
A: I find you interesting. You can do whatever you can think of and yet you do this. You stand on the ledge of a 27 story building to test the void's cell reception.
J: What?
A: You as in humans. People. And some other things that are working their way up. You're all so...so...odd.
J: What's so odd about curiosity?
A: Not your curiosity. You didn't write a rough draft confessional out of curiosity. You did it out of... sadness. Or something else that is describable by words.
J: So sadness is odd?
A: Your variability is odd. I have talked to and experimented with some others like you, except they were far worse off but much happier. I once let this one guy live for over a thousand years, every 100 or so checking in with him. He went from peasant to knight to pauper to merchant and more. He had, so far anyway, 94 children and 70 wives in the millennia he has lived. 89 children are dead and 68 wives are, and yet every time we talk and every time he loses another one, he says "let me keep going. I still have so much to do and see." and he does despite having been on continents that no longer exist and seeing important things no one remembers. Do you know why?
YOU ARE READING
Chocolate Milk
Short StoryAmi was sitting on a ledge, but is visited by someone they don't yet know. However, something strange makes them realize they are very may not be talking to who they first thought they were. Ami decides to make the most of the situation.
