“I don't know what is happening.”
You lie down. The grass is drier than it looks.
“Our lives are threaded together.” You're grasping for an explanation. “I think we have done this before.”
“What do you mean?” I have never seen you before, not with my own eyes. But this, all this, it's familiar.
You turn around and point. “Over there is a village. That is where I grew up. You went there, once. People talked to you, and you found it a relief to be treated like a stranger, someone unknown.”
I don't remember this. You continue.
“At some point, you dragged your hands through your hair and felt the crumbs of a leaf. I doubt anyone noticed anything, but it made you laugh.”
We sit in silence. The water is still, mirroring the sky. I pick up a blade of grass and study the shadow it makes in my palm. Then I speak.
“This is where we start over.” It comes out of nowhere, I don't know why I said it, but I know it's true. “Tomorrow, I'll wake up as a light tech. I won't remember this, not until the next time we meet. We'll go about our lives, recreating everything we just did, but from the other side.”
You sit up and think.
“We did this before. I remember. I remember you looking at myself. But that was not me, that was you. I saw myself, the body I am in now, from your perspective. That was my perspective. I was you, and now I am becoming you.”
I want to make a joke, to say I don't envy you, but I don't say anything. I don't know how long we have been doing this, or how long we will be doing it. I don't mind.
“Siša, is that your name?”
I nod.
“I like it.”
I look at you. “I don't think I know yours.”
You smile. “I was a night owl as a child, to the despair of my parents. They named me Awake. Maybe it was cruel, but it stuck.”