(Hey Friends! This is a little flash story I wrote the other day. If you wanna see more, my commissions are open! Please share if you enjoy!)
Because of the way light travels, the sun could go out at any moment and we wouldn’t know for at least seven minutes. For seven minutes, life would continue as usual. For seven minutes, life would continue.
The worst part of losing someone is knowing that, for as long as they did, they pretended everything was okay when it just…wasn’t. Every time you walked into the room, they would briefly glance at the door before smiling in your direction. Every time you called, they would hesitate for a beat before picking up. Every time they seemed to drift away in thought, it could have been, it just might have been, to think of what life would be like once you were finally gone.
And you’re left there. Alone. Alone the same way you were when your parents asked if you were sure you wanted to throw a birthday party this year because they knew nobody would come. Alone, the same way you were trying on prom dresses and they were all too small and you watched as every other girl got to feel beautiful. Alone the same way you were in gym class when you faked a sprained ankle to get out of the embarrassment of being last picked again and again and -
Alone. Just like you’ve always been.
Maybe you’ll die like this.
Sometimes it’s fine, sometimes it’s wonderful. Sometimes the ground exists just for you to walk on. Sometimes, you’re not alone.
But when the sun goes out one day, you won’t notice for seven minutes.
And for seven minutes, you’ll think everything is fine.
And when somebody is leaving, you won’t stop them.
Everything has to end eventually.
I couldn’t have asked for a brighter sun.