Describe The Light

Chapter 1

"What did you see?" I ask, curious if this was just another religious nutcase.

The man across from him held his chin in his palm, his elbow rested on the table. His other hand, the left one, stirred a coffee lightly, a bandage crumpling in when he moved his fingers.

Reaching for more creamer, he asked, "Anything specific you're looking for in this?"

I shook my head, "No. Just anything you experienced."

"You know that fancy light that kooky Christian always talk about?" He looked up from his coffee, his palm falling from under his chin and onto the table.

"Sure," I said, "Of course." I knew all about it, my family was so religious it was suffocating.

"All it was, was a flash of light and then black." He said, picking up his coffee, taking a few sips. His eyes were looking at me. As if he was trying to decide if I was judging him.

"Just black, nothing else. I couldn't even see my hands, like I was painted with tar. Felt like I was floating, like I was underwater but still able to breathe. I thought I wasn't actually dead, 'till they brought me back." His voice creaked and quieted near the end.

He really does want to die... I thought, he was the saddest man I'd ever seen.

"Did you really want to die that badly?" It slipped out.

"I still do. It's never gotten better, every damn day it just gets worse and I just want to die more and more." He rested his forehead in his hands and squeezed his eyes closed.

"I know it does nothing to say that I'm sorry for you, Aron. But if there's anything I can do, you have my number." I smiled. He looked so hurt sitting there across from me, just some man I was told to interview by my media job.

"Jorel," They bitch, "Go interview this man who just tried to kill himself in an incredibly public space."

"Nothing you can do unless you could kill me." He muttered.

"I mean, I-" I started, cutting myself off after realizing what I was about to say.

Aron looked up, "Hm?"

I clear my throat, "Just something stupid that came to mind."

Aron rolled his eyes, "Couldn't have been that stupid if you almost cut me off." He looked up with a sly smile as if he knew what I was about to offer.

"No-" I started, his slightly nasally voice cutting me off.

"No. It was something, see? Denial always means it was something." He pointed a bony finger at me, his nails brittle and shattered at the tips.

"I," I stop to process my words, making sure I don't say something stupid again, "Don't think it would be appropriate, for me as a reporter, to, uhm, give advice or offers on something so serious."

I look down at the pencil in my hand and tug at my shirt sleeve, Well, I could give advice and offers...

"So, your offer was?" Aron questioned, eyebrows raised and a small smirk darting onto his face for a second.