a conversation about the sun

The sun shone, having no alternative, on nothing new.
"Do you ever wonder if the sun gets sad?"
"What?" Cody, my best friend, propped himself up onto his elbows on the hillside we had collapsed onto. 
"You know, don't you think it gets tired of rising and shining on the same old things every day? I bet sometimes it wants to stop shining." I squinted up at the sun, its consistent beating suddenly saddening. 
Cory sat silently for a minute, considering. "I guess," he said. "Don't you ever get tired of living?" 
I nod, rolling over onto my side to face him. "Yeah, but not when I have something to live for."
"Or someone," Cody added. "I bet the sun has someone."
"I bet the sun is someone," I corrected. 
"You think so?"
"It's got to be. Think of all the things that were so gravitated by the sun that they placed it at the very center of their orbits."
"That's a nice thought. Maybe the sun isn't as lonely as we had thought," Cody confirmed, resting his head back on the ground and closing his eyes to the golden, now happy, light. 
"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?"