I’m Cheating On The Moon With Fireflies

Don’t judge. Everybody’s filthy.

Daniel Williams
Published in
6 min readJun 22, 2024


by author

I stepped out onto the front stoop to sit and think about death, but the moon was already out there, hogging death.

“Great,” I said, “what am I supposed to think about now?”

Me,” said the moon. “Think about me.”

“Okay, Moon — ”

“Call me The Moon.”

“The Moon?”

“Yeah, like The Batman.”

“Okay, The Moon, I’ll think about you. How should I start?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do. I’ve even cried while looking at you.”

“Is that so? Why aren’t you crying now? Cry.”

“Sometimes I don’t cry.”


“Well, crying over the moon’s sort of a young man’s game. And an old man’s game. But I’m 43. That’s basically the middle, I hope. Middle men look at the moon and though they don’t often cry, they do feel a huge weight.”

“Heart failure.”

“No — well maybe — but I was thinking more like a cold and heavy squeeze around their heart. It isn’t lethal, it just makes them think stuff like, Am I failing



Daniel Williams

A poverty-stricken, soft Batman by night. Illustrator and writing teacher by day. Previously: McSweeney’s, Slackjaw.