You know I’m awful at this on the spot bullshit.

Kerið, Iceland. 2016.

Waves kiss cliffs. There’s no stars in the sky so we’ve left the car headlights on. We switched the radio off because we only get static out here.
“Do you want to hear a lie?”
“It’s fucking cold out here.”
“Do you want to hear a lie?”
“Why not.”
We’re alone, a few metres away from the cliff’s edge where the world falls into ocean so dark its inseparable from the black sky above it. We are surrounded by nothing. I hear a dog barking a few blocks behind us and water breaking below. She takes a deep breath.
“Okay, so Saturn has hundred of moons, hundreds. Each with their own unique make up.”
“Is that the lie?”
“No that’s true.”
“One of these moons when you look at it from faraway is both magenta and turquoise.”
“As in it has two colours?”
“Yes and it’s all liquid, pools of magenta and pools of turquoise. They cover the whole surface and spin next to each other as the moon turns. Always touching but never mixing.”
“Now during it’s orbit it has a period of about a week where it’s gets closer to Saturn than it ever has before over its cycle. The pull of gravity from the planet is so strong that the pools finally come together.”
“What happens?”
“It doesn’t make much sense, at least with how we perceive light and colour theory, but the magenta and turquoise combine. The colours come together and in some sort of chemical reaction form a mirrored layer. Not a colour that we can see but a completely reflective surface. The universe around it gets reflected back to the point that at the right angle you can’t see the moon at all. For one week the moon becomes invisible.”
The warmth from the car engine underneath us is fading. I roll my head back against the windshield and stare at the empty sky.
“And then the colours separate and it all goes back to normal.”
“Is that true?”
“No it’s a lie.”
She lays down next to me. I lean my head against hers.
“It is really fucking cold.”
“Do you want to go back?”
That dog behind us barks again. Waves kiss cliffs. If I shut my eyes I can imagine the ground swaying with the crash of water against limestone. She shifts, laying her ear against my ribcage.
“Your turn.”
“Tell me something.”
“I’ve got nothing.”
“Doesn’t have to be interesting.”
“Does it have to be a lie?”
“If you want.”
With her index finger she traces circles in my chest.
“I knew a girl once, in high school. She was really into fish.”
“What like seafood?”
“Nah just fish, as in not dead ones. And the ocean. Anything sea-related, she loved it all. Used to have fish contact over all her exercise books. I remember the teacher used to tell her off because she wouldn’t stop drawing mermaids during class.”
“That seems excessive.”
“She literally wouldn’t stop unless you physically got in her way. We used to call her Fish Face.”
“I actually think she liked it. ”
She shuffles, folding her arms around her ribs. I watch her breath come out in small clouds, float past my face and disappear.
“Anyway one weekend Fish Face went missing. I remember her parents coming around to our house asking if we had seen her but I hadn’t since class on Friday, no one had. Which was not unusual, like I said she didn’t have many friends.”
“What happened?”
“We found her Monday morning. It was winter so the local pool was closed but in the middle of the night Fish Face broke in, jumping one of the chain link fences. She was carrying some flippers, duct tape and a Swiss army knife.  Being the middle of the night it was dark so when she jumped into the pool head first, she hadn’t seen that the pool had been drained. It was winter after all.”
“Broke her neck.”
“Yep. Spent the weekend on the bottom of the empty pool paralysed from the neck down. She didn’t really do much after that.”
“What about now?”
“I’m not really sure. Haven’t paid much attention since school. Her wheelchair was covered in fish stickers though.”
Gravel crunches as another car cruises behind us. Their headlights spin as they enter the car park then U-turn back the way they came. They’re playing something loud and familiar and as they move further away I struggle to remember where I know it from. Eventually it fades completely.
I wrap an arm around her shoulder and she lays one across my stomach.
“I always want to feel like this.”
Millions of miles away something invisible and immense spins silently. A girl dreams of the ocean. That dog has stopped barking.

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