The sun. It’s a million miles away. That means it’d take forever to get there. And once you got to it where would you stand? Just a big ball of fire. A burning star. You’d die from the heat the closer you got to it. The body can only take so much.

He looked up in the sky. Everyone always talks about the magic of the moon. Rarely do you hear talk of the sun. Like the probability that in a billion years it’ll burn out. No more light in the sky. Maybe twinkling stars. But, no sun, he said. Just a blank spot. A black hole maybe, he opened another beer.

Where do you think mom went to when she died? he asked his brother. Some say heaven. The Christians say paradise. Gone to be with Jesus. I think she’s in another dimension. Beyond the sun. Maybe there’s a second sun just glowing on them; those that have passed. They died here and their souls went to another place. Not their bodies. Their souls. And their sun will never burn out, he said.

His thin lips sucked on a cigarette. Weathered fingers wrapped around a can. He sat in silence. His skinny brother too. They just stared up at the sun. Looked at it. He shook his head. Blew out smoke. Sipped on his Budweiser. Shrugged his shoulders. Looked down on the ground at shadows. Long tall shadows of themselves.

A million miles away, he said. That’s a long way, he looked at his younger brother. Beyond that is longer. Another dimension, he said. She’s in another dimension.