01: dying sunlight

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d y i n g  s u n l i g h t


I loved the dying sunlight. I would sit on the bedroom balcony, fondly turning the well-thumbed pages of one of my mother's books with my legs up on the folding chair, watching the murky blues and greys of the sky slowly turn vibrant orange. I loved the way the heavens were overpowered by flames of strong, masculine reds and canary yellows, the way they filled with flares of pink. I loved to watch as the sunlight died away and faded into night as dusk fell upon the town.

I loved the way the tawny air felt, thickening around me. Twilight fell in such a way that caused the atmosphere to cloud with tension, taut and tangible, almost as if it was waiting to be released in the imminent night. I loved the way dusk smelled and the scent of freshly baked bread that wafted up the cobbled street from the local bakery.

And that was when I first saw you. You were hesitant. Nervous. You didn't know the way, both your future way and the way before you — I watched, curious, from the balcony, as you slowly walked down the street, as if lost. I suppose you were lost. I didn't help you. I couldn't. I couldn't help you because at the mere sight of you, I burst into tears; I had no idea then why I felt so sad in that moment. I know why now.

I had no idea then, that you were someone I once loved.

I Once Loved. | ✓Where stories live. Discover now