He stared over at it while she stared at him. “Remember that day when we opened the box and came here?”
“Best day of my life,” said Lucy to this. Limes. Box full of limes. Unlimited tequila.
“I mean, we were *there* — Real Life — and then we were here — Second Lyfe.”
“And we had 3rd Life on our computers instead, yeah. Cool. Really neat. I instantly turned myself into Leia from Star Trek.”
“I mean,” he continued on this track. “You remember smells. Don’t you?”
“Smells?”
“And touch. Feeling and touching. Not just seeing, not just hearing. There use to be 5 senses, Lucy.”
“It’s beautiful here,” she deflected. “I can feel the spray of the ocean if I close my eyes. I can hear the porpoises. I *feel* like I have a purpose here — that’s the only ‘feel’ I need.”
“Okay, how about smell?” he tried again. Did *he* remember smell? He couldn’t quite recall it now. Maybe all a dream. He tried to trace it back. And why this fascination with Shelley when he already has Lucy? They’ve been married 6 years, been buried longer than that, but that was just a past life. Someone allowed them to open the box, someone raised them from the dead. Here. Small box for a coffin, but there you have it. More symbolic than anything, he reckoned.
“It’s been there for 6 7 years. Have we even tried to move it? Even once?”
“2019,” said Lucy to this. “Hurricane coming in. Wouldn’t budge. We came back and everything was okay. The only lingering effect was this pool of water that partially submerged our back yard. Water never left. But we always wanted a pool.”
“Not this kind,” shot back Keanoob. He didn’t *feel* like sitting down beside it today, partially submerging himself in this pool or whatever the heck it really was. A curse, he gathered, quite a long time ago, actually. Probably 2019 again.
He’s going into the mountains instead.
“Ant Castle?” Lucy said to this, use to his wandering off by now.
“I think I’ll go visit Barry instead at his studio.”
“Better call. You remember what happened last time.” Barry really gets involved in his art, as Keanoob found out that day.
Ah heck, he’ll stay local and go check out the Durexian-Trojan War Memorial again. In a park across the road; only 200 meters from here. Sometimes he can still hear the distance cannons if he lays real quiet in the re-created Durexian-Trojan shared tent over there. You lose a sense or 3 you gain a sense or 3. Or so they say.
Sunklands 