“I don’t think the moon is real.” It was an odd statement. Not something you’d hear every day. I looked at her, my eyes wide. She looked at me, her blue eyes glittering with the stars.
“It’s…it’s right there,” I said, pointing up at the night sky. “We’re looking at it.” There isn’t much one can say against a comment like that. Instead I wanted to kiss her.
“Oh, I can see it,” she replied. She smiled, as if she was patiently explaining something to a preschooler. I briefly felt rather foolish, but I couldn’t understand why. It was as if she knew something I didn’t, a great secret about the sky that she was about to reveal. I kept staring at her, bathed as she was in the lambent moonlight.
“That’s not the moon. It’s a fake. It’s painted on to the sky. Just like all the stars.” My heart skipped a beat. Her confidence made me, for a second, doubt everything I knew about the universe. She ran her lithe fingers through her golden hair, frowning as it got caught on small knot. She tugged, gently, and the strands untangled. Then she smiled again. I knew nothing and she knew everything, I was sure of it.
“But…we’ve been to the moon!”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ve been up there. Someone had to paint it on.”
“But…why?” I felt my brain shutting down. I was beginning to believe. She was so sure about the fact, and I was so sure about her.
“It simply can’t be anything else. It’s impossible that the universe is infinite. Not a single person on this planet can comprehend that the universe is infinite. Therefore, it isn’t. That’s all there is. Paint on a roof.”
“I understand that the universe is infinite!” I protested weakly.
“Nope. You’ve been told that. You don’t truly comprehend that. Nobody can. It makes a lot more sense that it’s paint.”
She was right. It made a whole lot more sense. Right then, I believed. I truly believed that the universe was paint on the sky. I truly believed I wanted to kiss her.
“It’s paint,” I said.
“I know,” she said.
“I want to kiss you,” I said.
“I know,” she said.