The Trade

Would it matter to you, if I told you what I looked like?

Probably. You’d probably care a whole awful lot what I looked like. I don’t know if you know why you care, and even I can only make half-hearted guesses to the answer for that one.

But some part of you will want to know. Are they tall? Do they have nice eyes, silky hair? Will I like to look at them?

Maybe you’re just curious, after hearing my name. Put a picture to the words; in your head. And it’s a fair enough assumption. Humans are wonderers. Always wanting a connection.

Would it matter then, if I told you I wasn’t human? Probably. You’d probably care a whole awful lot that I wasn’t human.

But would you still wonder? Would you still want a connection?

You see, the thing is, humans like things. Things they can touch, things they can see, things they can consume. Greedily, but that’s not the point.

But I like time. Time to myself, time to reflect, time without consequence. Time is irreplaceable.

But don’t be sad, annwyl, don’t be sad. You have so much time! You have it all, really...

Time to grow old, time to make mistakes, learn and transform.

Time to love.

And if anyone should feel that sting of time rushing by, it’s me. I have so many things, and all I want is the moments you ignored.

You ignored them for so long, human.

And I see you staring at the words, desperately swallowing the sentences.

I can hear your heart reading them.

It will be fine.

You’ll know what I look like.

You can have all the things... I promise.

Just give me your time….

It will only hurt a little.