Sunset, A Very Short Story
I’m sitting on a low wall in front of what once was my school. The building sits proud atop a hill overlooking downtown. Down there, angry mobs of people swarm the streets, looting and rioting, helping tear apart what’s left of their lives. From where I sit, none of that chaos is visible. Downtown looks almost peaceful, windows shining in the late afternoon sun. Only the faint flicker of flames every once in awhile betrays that it isn’t.
Today has been a beautiful day, the sun warming the earth, and a faint, cool breeze pushing puffy white clouds across the azure sky. Everything looks fresh and clean from the light rain that fell last night. The rain had forced those who would have otherwise prowled the streets in search of trouble to seek shelter, making it easier to collect those of our families and friends who hadn’t already been with us, and bring them here. I’d always thought the school, with its tall brick walls and small courtyards, looked like a fortress, and with their assistance, soon it will be one.
I don’t know how long I’ve stood here, but darkness is falling now and the crickets begin to chirp. I hear the crunch of leaves and snap of twigs under foot. I don’t need to look to know who it is, I can tell just from the rustle of her skirt and that odd scent, so hard to place. She stops to stand a little ways away, and watches the sky to the west, and I turn to watch with her. We sit in silence until she remarks, “Nice sunset.” I respond, “Yeah, yeah it is.” We settle back into a comfortable quiet, and watch the sun set as the city burns.