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She grabs my hand and we go down. Down into the hole. I do not want to go into the hole but there isn’t any choice about it, and she seems in a hurry anyway. In general I prefer to avoid going into holes. It’s not a strict policy, it is simply my preference. If you were to show me, casually, a handsome hole and offer me the opportunity to go into it, I would say “no, thanks.”
"This is a nice looking hole but I still do not want to go into it."
"Maybe we could do some other things instead."
And that would be nice. A pleasant exchange. But that’s not what is happening here because I am going into the hole and it is not very handsome and we are not going to do other things we are just going to go into the hole.
REPORT FROM THE HOLE: it’s dark.
Also, it is cold.
She still has my hand and now we are going further into the hole. The ground feels soft. Silty. Like wet sand, maybe. It’s hard to really see because the only source of light is her eyes which, surprise, glow in the dark. I did not know that her eyes would glow in the dark, but it makes perfect sense now that I’ve seen it.
My eyes do not glow in the dark and this, too, makes perfect sense.
FURTHER REPORT FROM THE HOLE: the sides are opening up.
There’s space. And….wind.
We are still walking—I am still being led—into the hole, but maybe it is not a hole anymore, not properly. Maybe it is a tunnel. Maybe it is a cavern. It is difficult to know the species of a thing.
The wind is making me aware of the back of my neck and of the skin of my arms. I had forgotten about them but now, suddenly, here they are again. I’m in a tunnel and I have skin. Or I’m in a cavern. The wind has brought me back my skin and I’m in a thing.
It’s dark and someone is holding my hand.
She pulls me further into the darkness and I do not argue.
A curious aspect of my nature is that I rarely argue. It’s a special kind of passivity because it isn’t out of fear of conflict or an inability to assert myself, if necessary, to get what I want or to avoid things I do not want.
It is instead simply that I am ready to accept things. Being led into a hole by a glowinthedark girl, for example.
The wind picks up and all my hairs are moving and her hairs are moving too. She stops suddenly and I run into her a little but she uses the momentum and pulls me into her and then I am into her.
We are in the dark and our skins are touching.
Her glow in the dark eyes find mine and I am looking into them and I can feel the skin of her stomach against my shirt. Our stomachs are touching with my shirt in between them. I can feel her breathing.
Our lungs are hungry and I am breathing as she is. We are balanced against each other.
We are in a hole.