Evenings.

Have you ever been comforted by loss? You would ask.
I would stare at you, perplexed like a tourist trying to decipher a very foreign tongue.
You would smile and point at the setting sun.
The hues would change every minute.
Orange would give way to pink and later a somber shade of purple.
The colours would finally collapse into the horizon, and the day would be gone, just like that.

The night would take over and I would still be sitting there, taking turns to look at you and then the sky in awe of what, I wouldn't know.

You would smile at me again, that damned smile, like it held secrets, like Pandora's box and utter almost in a rehearsed manner, the sun's gone, you've lost the day, aren't you comforted by it? I would nod, knowing it wasn't the loss of the day; but the gain of a person that I found comforting.

Now with you gone, my evenings continue to change hues and collapse into oblivion, I finally know now what it means to be comforted by loss.