What are you thinking about? said the man in the suit. 

What does it look like? the frail man said, his head twisted upwards towards the small opening at the top of the room, he guessed it was around nine feet above the floor and about six inches across and up and down. He couldn’t be sure though because he wasn’t good at those sorts of things.

What does what look like?

The sun. 

You know what the sun looks like, the man in the suit said back, his face lit by a small slice of light cutting sharply through the dark room from the small window. His face was long and stern, old and weathered but his eyes were caring underneath heavy eyebrows. His suit was black and buttoned all the way up to his neck. Even his socks were black. His shoes were scuffed and dusty and the soles were warn down, it was the only fault in his appearance. 

I’ve only seen pictures of it. 

It looks the same.

Than why can’t I see it for real?

The images you have seen are real.

But the images don’t make the light. He nodded his head upwards and reached out his skinny arm and with his weak hands touched the beam of light which cut diagonally across the room just missing where he sat on the floor with one need up and his lower back touching the cold wall.

No they do not.

I want to see the sun that makes the light. 

I’m sorry but you can’t.

Why?

They won’t allow it.

I don’t understand.

Yes you do.

I don’t. I don’t know why I’m here. Why am I here? He leaned back and with his hands pulled up the leather ropes tied all around his body and his neck and his legs and his feet and his ankles. Why am I here?

The man sat there on the bench for a moment and looked down into the light. A moth was fluttering around, lost and found at the same time. Each time it left the light it came back into it. It continued to dance until it finally disappeared into the darkness of the room and into the cold. He let out a long steamy breath and said, Because you’re special.

He looked down and scratched at the moist cobble-stoned floor, his finger nails dirty and broken. Looking at the scratches he was making in the dirt on the stone he said, Special. You have said this word to me many times and yet I don’t know what it means. I don’t understand why I am special.

It means that you are different.

Different than what?

Than everyone else.

How?

I don’t know.

I don’t understand.

I don’t know why you are different, they aren’t allowed to tell me and I am not allowed to know. I am only allowed to know that you are special. He stood and walked towards the far wall with the small window and leaned against it as if to comfort the frail man by a false nostalgia of a leisurely stroll through a park he had never been.

But why am I here?

You know this too, I have told you this many times.

I still don’t understand. I don’t understand why you tell me these things about my life. How do you know them? How can you know?

We know because we must, and because we must know, you must also know. He opened the buttons on his jacket and with his hands gently flipped back the bottoms of the jacket and placed his hands in his pocket. The frail man had seen him do this many times and although he knew why he did it, he still enjoyed seeing it. He looked down again to put his thoughts back to where they were before.

It isn’t fair.

What isn’t?

I don’t want to be here. Why am I special and not someone else, someone from out there?

We don’t know that.

Will you ever let me leave? At that the man smiled gently with his mouth but his eyes teared. It was slight but the frail man noticed, he noticed every gesture he made, even the smallest like when he rubbed his fingers together in his pocket as he was doing now whenever something was bothering him.

I have to leave soon.

I know.

Do you still want to talk?

What am I supposed to do?

The man sighed and rubbed his wrinkled forehead. He wanted to give the frail man an answer, anything to help him. He loved him though he could never say.

What am I supposed to do? he asked again. He had no energy but pulled at the leather restraint with his hands, the muscles in his forearm flickered and hurt as he tensed them. He was fueled by anger and continued to pull at the rope.

Please stop said the man. 

I want to leave.

You know you can’t.

But why? Why can’t I see the sun? Why can’t I leave? Please? Can you take away the special? Can you make me like the others who live out there? Please. He pulled and sobbed and pulled and his head shook back and forth as he did so.

The man in the suit turned away to wipe his eyes, Please stop. You’ll hurt yourself. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.

Let me see the sun. Please? Let me see it, just once, that’s all I want. Just one look. He pleaded and pulled and cried. The loose rags started to fall off his shoulders and the Man in the suit could see all the marks and bruises on his body and he cried and stepped through the beam of light across the floor and kneeled down to the frail man. He had never before been this close. The frail man immediately loosened his grip and fled back against the wall frightened.

We can’t let you, he said kneeling.

But why?

The Man dropped his head and let his hang loosely for a moment. Picking it back up he looked at the frail man and, for the only time he would ever allow himself, he touched the frail man on his shoulder. Finally he said, We can’t let you see the sun because we need you to want it. We need you to want it so badly so that you can dream about it, because those dreams will grow one day and when you are ready you will make something greater than anyone out there can do. This is why you are special because you were chosen for this. 

The frail man looked on like a child, his eyes wide and wet. The Man hand’t noticed but he had moved so close to him to almost be in his entire grasp. He was so small and thin.

He continued, We aren’t supposed to tell you this, but you need to know. You will never leave here, you will never leave this room for the rest of your life because of what you were meant for. We are here to help you as much as we can but sometimes we fail. Sometimes some of the specials don’t make it and that makes us very, very sad. We want you to make it, we want you to get out and you can get out I promise you, it will just never be through that door, or that window. When you are ready you will leave by going inside yourself and finding a light that is much brighter than you ever knew. And you will create.

The Man in the suit looked up at the light and finally said, I’m sorry but there is no happy ending for you, only in what you leave behind. 

At that the Man in the suit stood up and took a step back. He brushed off his jacket and fixed his clothing and walked out the room. A loud metallic clank echoed throughout the room and the outside as they locked the door. 

The frail man leaned against the cold wall. And he looked up out the window.