If all the day were turned to night, first I would light my cigarette and ask you to go stargazing. If no stars shone, we would raise up our lighters together and remember the sun; now that we have moonlight forever, we have learned to embrace brightness when it comes. Your smile is like light. A hazy glow emanates from your body whenever you draw near; like a fire, I feel your warmth before we even touch. I am never surprised to find you.
If all the day were turned to night and Earth had fallen still, we would drink until the sun came up – ha! Like a pair of thieves, we would tiptoe around the white picket fence neighborhoods and play games of cops and robbers with the women in their hair curlers and bathrobes – we would never get caught. Under cover of the spell of invisibility, like in the backyard fantasies of childhood, we could kiss and never talk about it; we could do our makeup without having to ever scrub it off. If the sky were dark and clouds were like cloaks, I might strut the streets in high heels, sweatpants, a floral blouse. I like those things. And you would wear nothing.
If all the day were turned to night and not a speck of light came through from heaven, we would never have to walk apart. No other jaded human soul would be able to see our faces or our chests – our heads would have already been shaved – and for the first time in our lives, I think we would blend in. In the dark, I think we could be like shadow people – we could be unseen.
Anna Louise Steig is a young writer from Hagerstown, Maryland, who will be pursuing an English degree at Shepherd University in fall 2023.