Syncope

n. (medical); a sudden, usually temporary loss of consciousness generally caused by insufficient oxygen in the brain.

~~~~~~~~

Though it was Cane who began the conversation, it was Sun who saw her getting off the train - looming far above the arc of his vision - not so much tall as cloudy. Autumn was kind - a lounge of sunshine, snow, a washing wind for each colour of the trees. New York State, blanched in blood and pearl and leaf, saw them curling back onto themselves until they fell. Sun beamed a ray, kissing cold and holding his fingers up. The East Coast.

Sun rose from the bench as Cane walked over, busily fishing something out of her backpack. Then, clutching a book in her hand, she pulled Sun into an energetic embrace. Sun's face pulsed with surprise, then softened. Cane took the book and stuffed it into Sun's hands. "Thank you," she finally said, "for the great read. I loved it."


"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's one of my favourites. How was your trip?"


Cane moved her hair from her face and looked down, replying only-


"Hey Sun, you wanna light up?"

****

He fixed his eyes on the glass chamber, which glinted menacingly in the reflection of the railing, and flicked the cruel metal serration on the flimsy plastic nozzle. Holding it out, he leaned it over the pipe and lit the ewer. The flame licked hotly at his right thumb while his left tapped the hole at the bottom of the glass concavity. Facing downward, he took a deep breath and inhaled pungently into his body. Keeping the distillation in his lungs until he couldn't hold it anymore, he bent forward and coughed vigorously. The smoke whispered up into ozone.

"Fuck, Sun. When did you last get high?" Cane tried to hide obvious laughter. She moved from where she was standing at the railing and patted Sun on the back. With a last embarrassed cough, he passed the pipe back to her.

"So tell me." Sun regained his composure. "What's wrong?"

Cane straightened awkwardly. "This might sound strange." She drew a long, staggered breath and exhaled. "A few weeks ago, I lost my way. I don't mean physically. Honestly, nothing really initiated this change. If anything, I'd been feeling really good. One night I went to bed warm, content, spiritually sound, and then the next day I woke up feeling a mental exhaustion, as if I was just sick of everything and everyone I'd ever thought of as mine."

"Hmmm." Sun looked out to the traffic islands, the building buoys, the taxicab sharks, the salty road, feeling himself adrift. A dread all too familiar and tied up with the nebulae of smoke was creeping up to him. "But you're okay," he said out loud, still looking away from Cane, "you're just feeling what everyone feels. It is easy to become lost like this." Sun could already anticipate the minute of abject terror approaching his body. A heady summation, perhaps, of all that Cane was feeling. He breathed faster, releasing air as a visible hazy stream filling a sky that was growing smaller.

Sun lifted his head up and brought it down again. The nausea that was building in his body warped the dimensions of his sight. His mind became a drop-down menu upon which all the buttons had suddenly been pressed. Popups flitted past the firewalls so carefully fitted into place and his consciousness was surrounded by signs that all read *(NO) DIRECTION*. His eyes closed.

****

*Whiteness. Brilliant and shining whiteness. Then, the grey of floor, the tired pink of knees. Where am I? Who am I? What is this? Who are you? You're beautiful. Do I know you? Are you my friend? Are we close? Did we fuck? I'm on the ground, it's a little cold. September? October? Are you talking to me? I need some water. Water water water water water water water water water water water water water water water water water. The sun is going down. Yes, my name is Sun. I was just sitting here and I was talking and you were talking and I was talking. Did I miss the part where we fucked?*

"Sun," Cane repeated, "Are you okay?" Rifling through her bag again, she lifted out a metallic bottle, which she placed at Sun's lips. Sun shook his head and took hold of the reflective silver aluminum. He tilted his head back all the way so that the water filtered down through the rubber nozzle into his mouth and drained into his stomach. His eyes were still unfocused and glazed over and he looked past her as he gave her back the vessel.

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

"You fell on the ground. I… nobody has ever had that sort of reaction to weed in front of me before. You looked like you were having a fucking seizure!"

Sun finally looked at Cane. "It's happened before. I guess I haven't been hydrating myself enough. It's fine, though. To tell you the truth …I kind of enjoy it."

Cane still looked upset. She looked concernedly at Sun, as if trying to coax some sort of better answer from him. Sun shifted his weight on the ground and crawled closer to Cane before beginning to speak.

"Well, it's like… I guess I've been feeling the same way you have. I mean, I guess I never gave you an answer to your problem. At least not a proper one."

The wind blowing through Cane's hair framed her against twilit cyan. Sun started again. "I like people, I love having friends, I like the idea of having direction. But a lot of the time I just can't stand any of it. When pot fucks me up, it's like… After a minute of terrifying, overwhelming thought, I get 15 seconds of complete and utter dissolution of memory."

His face cracked into a slight smile. "I have no idea who anybody is when I'm in this state. I'm a newborn. I think it's worth a minute of fear to experience such a joy. It's like sleep. It's like a wonderful dream. It's the only way to live. Don't think about anybody. Don't do anything. Paint your room white. Get a cat."

Cane looked down at Sun, and then up at the sky where darkness was gathering.