A cool evening in late summer with a clear sky.

I have just finished sharing watermelon with Amelie. As I make my way back to the apartment, I stop in the garden to glimpse the moon.

Big and bright in the dark starry sea, I’m transfixed by the glow as I float up into the sky. Leaving the earth and drifting weightless in the vast expanse, I feel someone pass me but I don’t see who.

They don’t see me either.

I draw closer to the surface of the moon. So close I can nearly touch it. For a second I manage to feel that powdery surface. I laugh to myself, it feels just like talcum powder.

The darkness and shape of the craters are so varied, I don’t even attempt to take it all in. For a moment I think of the someone I passed in space on the way here.

Who is this someone visiting earth while I visit their home?

As they take in the wonder of my home, do they think about who is visiting their home?

A splash in the distance from the pool, a cricket chirping unseen in the garden. The chilly breeze brings me back to earth in an instant.

I assume the visitor has been pulled back to the moon too.

What did they think as they felt the smooth, cool leaves on the bushes in the garden like I touched the talcum powder surface of their home?

The moon still hangs in the sky, illuminating the night.

I snap out of my state and walk inside the building.