052609B
I don’t like sunlight, it makes me sneeze. The second it hits me, I feel it coming, from way in the dark recesses of somewhere in back of me. It’s a painful bubbly feeling like when you drink soda too fast, maybe somewhere between my throat and my brain, or up near the tip of my nose, almost at the bottom of my eyes. My mother likes to tell me I’ve always been this way. It was so cute, she says. Put this baby in the sunlight and she sneezes. Sneezes aren’t really that cute, they can be excruciatingly loud, terribly rude, and nobody, including the sneezer, can tell if snot will come out. Most of the time, it does. I don’t like sunlight for other reasons; I’m not a vampire or anything, I just don’t like it.