Slow, heavy electric currents, low and full of bass, fluctuate in the exact of night filled with an almost deathly stillness. It is a deep-sea ocean current from the black that is the universe beyond the atmosphere; it is something that should be comforting in its unknown properties but is completely and utterly unsettling. You can feel the sun too close, too present outside your thin rooftop in the infinite expanse of space, you feel like the sky which always seemed so far away that had protected you from the cold has suddenly been ripped wide and broken to show you the horror of experiencing your life hidden from you, a reminder of how small and unsteady your entire existence truly is.
It's the warm part of the summer but the closer the eclipse draws, the colder you feel. The smaller you feel. You want to be excited, you want to feel like you want to watch your sun disappear. You're scared. Your heart beat feels stranger by the day. Drowning.
You draw closer to the only source of warmth in your life, and in that moment of cosmic darkness, he gives you a lasting feeling of protection that engulfs you like the sensation you get lying on a warm, smooth black rock on the beach in summer after you've just gotten out of the achingly cold water.