Soft and sweet. A foot the size of my hand making an impression of itself on my lap. A red impression. Smile. A smile upon the child’s face, not that I could tell. Sticky fingers across my eyes, so I shut them and smile back.

Wake up.

‘Wake up.’

‘Yes I know.’ I say.

One room centred towards a balcony. Dry more than clean. The balcony unreachable, for now. The whole room coated in the smell of hot cotton. I look at my hands and they’re fine. Not a sign of chaffing nor a laceration to speak of.

‘Yes, but who are you speaking to?’ I said

‘Me.’ I answered with a smile.

No more smiling. It’s morning.

From the hallway comes the sound of steps. Trembling in apologetically is the outline of the child I’d seen many a time prior. The dark scares it but the sight of my smile encourages it to stand still and place its head into its hands. If I was going to smother it now would be my chance. I reach for my pillow but the child sits on it. Strange.

‘Weren’t you just in front of me?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ replies the child, now gazing in interest to his right side, legs crossed upon the pillow.

‘Well it’s just that, just now, just this instance, you were more like two yards in front of me.’

‘I couldn’t see myself getting smothered.’

‘In fact, child, you wouldn’t have seen it. I suppose I should apologise for my manners though.’

The child lets his head drop to one side and catches it with his hand. Another smile. Not the same I’d been wearing some minutes before. Before I could figure it out the child makes its way to the balcony before pausing against the solitary glass window.

‘Again, I am sorry. I am a Sod in the morning.’ I chuckle.

I assume the child isn’t listening as he stares across the room from the window, almost hiding from something inevitable. However, it replies ‘Oh come now, you’re being silly. One apology is quite enough. Besides, it’s a touch redundant apologising for something you’d do again given the chance. I wouldn’t apologise for something I intend to carry on with. That said, I can’t account for myself regarding what’s been and what is to be. You can weigh your past up against your future and seek a victor. But I’ve found mine both triumphant. I couldn’t honestly tell which I prefer. Hold on.’ The child retires from his gaze and employs a whole new expression. His eyes close gently for the first time since my own met his.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you with my abruptness, but I think I’ve found something.’

‘Don’t be so absurd.’ I start. ‘There’s nothing in here to find.’

‘I’ve found a vibration against this window. Are we moving?’

Annoyed. This child is boring me. Perhaps I should smother it now and be done with it.

‘I said, are we moving?’

‘No! Alright. No. I’ve told you more than a few times now that we’re not moving.’

‘You’re lying on two counts.’

‘Lying?’ I spit.

‘You haven’t mentioned that before and more importantly, we are moving. Shame on you.’

‘Shame on you, more like! Despicable child. I ought to smother you.’

‘You ought not to. It’s not a nice affair that. You’d probably regret it. And when we think about it, in this moving room with evasive balcony, if I were to be smothered I couldn’t tell you what I’ve found.’

‘You’ve already told me.’ I reply victoriously.

‘Ah. But I haven’t told you which vibration I found. Come here.’

I haven’t ever been close to the balcony. It’s so white out there, beyond it. Not to say that it’s not white in the room, but there’s a veneer about it that remains inviting, welcoming. A glance at the balcony is enough to tell me that I must find some excuse. I can’t make it to the balcony, not now, not after all I’ve said. What with this smothering business. Who needs a vibration anyway? After all, it’s morning and the balcony is no place for a half-naked man of my age.

‘I’m sorry, it would be inappropriate to come anywhere near you. You might be a girl. It’s already unreasonable of you to come in here, to a mans bedroom, where he sleeps, when you may well be a girl.’

‘I see your reasoning. But I’m not a girl.’

‘You don’t sound like a boy.’

‘Neither do you.’

‘Because I’m a man.’

‘Precisely.’

‘Oh stop playing games with me. You’ll have me scratching my face off.’

‘Who gives a Fuck?’

Insolent little child. I run over and crash my pillow into its face which doesn’t make a sound in itself, but sends the back of his skull crushing into the window which makes quite the deafening racket. I push the pillow – fists gripped tight – hard and around its little head. The child doesn’t kick at all. I feel the sweat dripping on my head, tickling me, but I smell the child’s pain and think nothing of the discomfort the sweat brings me, even though I long for the dryness my room once brought me. Suddenly a voice from the other side of the pillow.

‘My legs aren’t kicking a bit. I always assumed they’d kick.’

I pull the pillow away in horror. To my delight the child is motionless. Last words. It was a boys voice that time, I’m sure of it. No need to worry about what others may have heard transpire then. I couldn’t do with him next-door and her two-doors-down informing others, my family, my students, that a strange girl was in my room with me.

Of course, the room was moving, but I couldn’t exactly admit that, not then. It was none of the child’s business. What a smart young chap he was though. I pull him onto my lap. I laugh at some of the things he said as I look at the smile upon his face. No time for that now. High time I inspected this ‘vibration’ business.

—

Instantly the left side of my temple tickles. Early this morning the sky was white, though less than white. Now I send my eyes out into the green sky and see what I hadn’t seen through this balcony before. I can’t help but miss the child. Perhaps because he was right. No wonder he felt content and comfortable enough to berate me in my own home. At least he felt as I do now, when he was smothered. Benign, giving and morose all at the same time. I displace my cheek and it slides down the window pane at a rate slow enough not to concern me. Far from it. I go with it. What a journey, I think. Smiles. Forget benign, I’ve misjudged this. That I can see clearly now. It’s euphoria, this window. I can see all that I needed to see and it’s all because of these wonderful vibrations from this moving room.