Grace

IMG_0786“I hate watching the sunrise,” she said, her face turned away from me, the first shades of blue and yellow, the coming day  taunting and teasing. “I know, beauty, blah blah, and new beginnings. There are none. All I see is another reminder. I don’t need another reminder.”

She stood up, grabbing a fist full of earth as she did. Pure elegance in each three lithe steps forward as she threw the sand and rocks towards the sky, unwinding cold and forceful, like a can of compressed air, all hissing. “You’re gone,” her voice slipping quiet, almost muffled, like my ears were plugged after swimming. “I’m alone, and every morning does nothing but offer me another day of it.”

I said nothing, only watched from my secret place, the outline of my form a puzzle on the rocks and trees. She came here every predawn, and each morning I waited for her in the shimmering gray, hoping that this time, maybe the light wouldn’t chase me away.

 

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About fenster

There are some who call me, Tim?

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