The man I live with has pale skin that does not tan well. At the first sign of spring he walks around topless, his skin pale as the belly of some deep underwater fish. His absence of color makes him look anemic sometimes. When I trace his green veins traveling acoss his body, he says, God, I can’t wait to get some sun.

Months go by. Finally summer bursts upon us and his skin begins to brown. Sometimes the man I live with will ‘forget’ to use sun block and his back and arms sport an angry rash-like surface, red as a lobster. When his skin peels it’s like crepe paper flaking on the bed. After this his skin turns a light brown, and he looks like a glowing golden boy. His light brown hair takes on a bronze sheen, and you can no longer see all his veins. People stare at him and ask him out a lot in the summer. Ah, vanity, thy name is Brian. For this summer color the man I live with will burn. And burn again, until his skin surrenders.

The man I live with has a naturally high body temperature. After a day of sun it seems he is even hotter. He’s like a glowing ember in the night, charged like a battery from the sun. He kicks our light comforter to the floor in his sleep. When we spoon he feels like a hot towel fresh from the dryer.

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