DDR
(the posted description)
I wrote an absolute banger of a description but discord said it was 775 characters too long and I don’t have the heart to reduce it, so instead I’m going to post a snowman emoji ⛄️
At the Insanity Complex
(the planned description)
The sun sank behind the horizon, and the golden glory yielded to softer hues of pink and orange that painted the western flank of tall purple clouds. Fireflies were making a cautious exit from the treeline, and the faintest signs of stars timidly poked through the dark blue sky above the hills in the east. The air was still and quiet.
I heard approaching footsteps but did not turn, I knew who it was.
“Hey,” she said. I nodded in acknowledgement. I felt her hand on the small of my back as she took her place beside me.
“Pretty sunset,” she said. I nodded again.
“It’s funny,” I said. She turned to look at me, confused.
“Funny? Is this about–” she said.
“No, not about that,” I said. “Not really. It’s just–” I paused, searching for the words.
“I used to look at the sunset and think it was pretty, the same way a rainbow or flowers or fireworks are pretty. The colors, the textures, the contrast. I appreciated it in a superficial sense.”
“And you don’t now?” she asked.
“No, no, I still do. It’s just… different. How do I explain?” I said.
We stood there for a moment, not saying anything. The peach outline on the purple clouds climbed higher, more fireflies stirred, and the stars in the east grew bolder.
“It’s because it’s changing, isn’t it?” she said. “You, me, the clouds, it’s all changing.” Her hand had wandered along my back and found its way to my waist.
“That’s close,” I said. “I think it’s that yesterday is gone and we can’t go back. None of us can. It’s gone forever. And that light on the clouds, that little bit of yesterday that’s hanging on, it’ll be gone forever, too.”
“That’s not funny,” she said. “That’s sad.”
“It’s a little sad,” I said. “But it’s also what makes it beautiful. The other things, the other pretty things–rainbows and flowers and fireworks–they’re like this. They’re in between. Storm to sun, bud to fruit, fire to ash, day to night. But the in between is its own thing, but we only get it for a little bit.”
Her head was leaning on my shoulder now. I could feel her voice as she talked.
“It’s like us,” she said.
“It is,” I said. “Maybe this was about–”
“Maybe it was,” she said.
We stood there together, quietly, her warmth against mine. The earth turned away from the sun and we watched as the last bit of light slipped off the side of the clouds and yesterday died. The stars were emerging across the sky, and the glow of the moon started rising in the east.
“What time is it?” I asked. She peeled herself away from me and looked at her phone.
“7:15,” she said.
“Fuck, we’re late for DDR.”