They let me go outside today. There was a meeting in the building next door. It was a beautiful day with perfect temperature and a wonderful clarity to the sky. When I crossed to the other building, I felt like a bat who should not be in the sun. The sun was too bright, and I was squinting very hard, creating an ugly look in my face, perhaps like I’d been blasted in the gut with a shotgun. The sun was too interrogative for me. The town was too old, and I could feel it baking. When I shaded my eyes with a hand in salute, I could see the film going super fast and the town was falling apart rapidly, dissolving into a nearly-weightless dust. I wondered if I was meant to be here and if anything around me was meant to be here, and I thought about a farmer, lonely in a field, in the middle of an intense July heat, one that would be here too soon.