For the first month of college, Liv and Indy used to lay awake and talk late into the night. It was like having a sleepover every single night. She’d loved it at first.
And then Liv had started to express interest in a sorority or in hanging out in a class the two of them didn’t have together. She always invited Indy along, but Indy had stopped going after the first few times. She felt like a burden on Liv–like Liv felt obligated to invite Indy along because of the history they had.
On one of their last nights staying up late and talking, Indy told her about how she wished she’d been born on a planet far away somewhere–a small planet that was just big enough for Indy and had no other people.
“If there are no other people, where did you come from?” Liv asked. “Don’t you need parents to be born?”
“Maybe I sprouted from a seed,” Indy said. That detail didn’t seem important to her. “Or maybe I was created out of interspace dust colliding together like how a planet is born.”
“Wouldn’t it be boring and lonely to live alone without anyone else?” Liv said, wrinkling her forehead.
“No,” Indy said. “If I lived my whole life alone, never knowing that anyone else existed, I wouldn’t know what it meant to be nored or lonely. Alone would be the only thing I ever knew–there would be nothing else to compare it to.”
No matter how she tried to explain it, though, Liv didn’t understand–a clear marker of someone who had never been lonely.