This was when you’d just got home from work. You were understandably tired and a little stressed and were looking to unwind but unfortunately it was raining in every room and obviously that didn’t help matters. So you took out some plastic sheets to cover your sofa and your bed and your waterlogged electronics which took some time and afterwards you weren’t in the mood to deal with any of this. That’s when he stepped into your living room. The carpet, which was drenched, tore a little under his feet. You looked up and sighed.
“What do you want?”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to visit Paris.”
“I need to find someone to dry my house.”
“That, I’m sure, will take care of itself.”
And you shrugged because why not? So he led the way to your front door and you looked back at your soaking wet house then stepped out through. The ground beneath you was dry and dark and cold and under your feet pebbles stirred which didn’t happen often here. You looked around then stared at him.
“This isn’t Paris.”
He gestured to the blank basalt landscape then up to see the earth in the sky and nodded. “This isn’t Paris.”
You sighed as frustration started to surface. “You never said anything about taking me to the sea of tranquillity.”
He nodded. “It’s true, this isn’t what you expected. Then again,” he said as he started to walk up a slight mound, “if I’d followed convention wouldn’t it have taken you days to get to Paris? And the likelihood of you ever coming here would, I think, have been significantly diminished. Look, can you see the Atlantic?”
You shook your head, turned away and held your shoulders. “But this isn’t what I asked for.” You started to walk towards a little depression in the surface. “There’s not much chance of a brief but emotionally significant romance with a sensitive and strong young French man here, is there?”
He considered for a moment then shook his head. “It’s possible but unlikely, I’ll admit.” He shrugged. “Still, if I only ever took you where you wanted to go, how would you find anything new?” He clambered further up the mound. “Oh, the icebergs are twitching. Do you see?”
You threw up a dismissive hand and started the long trek down the depression. “I’m really not willing to commit to this,” you said.
He sighed. “Alright but I think you’d like it here. If you gave it a chance.” He reached the top of the mound and shielded his eyes with one hand. “I think that’s Africa. And the desert! The burning desert, look!”
But you’d already walked back into your house which, it’s true, had started to dry. It relieved you and you sat on your sofa and rolled a joint. I took a toke then passed it to you and looked you right in the eye, I said I think you made a mistake. You blew a smoke ring straight up and shrugged, I looked away from your eye which soon enough would be red.