Sunset

I sat with Selina on the bench. We looked out towards the hills of Andover as the sun set through wispy cloud.

“I’m not sure we’ll see morning,” I announced.

“What? Wait… why,” she replied.

“The sun looks,” I began, trying to think of the right words, “looks… a bit off.”

Selina looked closer. The mask of uncertainty fell as she saw what I did.

“God,” she replied, “is that… green?”

The edges we could see through the gaps in the cloud were, for want of a more accurate descriptor, green. The sun had a greenish hue. It was disconcerting.

“I’m not sure I like this, Derrin.”

We sat in silence as the final half round dipped behind the hills. An ominous air punctuated our presence. I shuffled closer and placed a comforting arm around Selina. She welcomed my concern. The chill came quickly, and we returned to the boat house to warm ourselves and have some food.

I woke late the next morning. Selina and I had stayed awake talking solar hypotheticals. The extra sleep was welcomed. I looked at my phone and it was half eight. I’d not slept this late in a long while. Despite being late summer, it was dark. I reached over, but Selina’s side was empty. I hauled myself up and padded out to get some coffee.

The entire house was gloomy. No lights were on. I turned on the coffee machine and filled it. It would be 5 minutes or so until it was ready, so I searched for Selina. Eventually, I spied her wrapped in a blanket facing the sea. I went to her.

“It’s green,” she said after sensing my presence, “green, like… like moss.”

I looked to where the sun was rising above the waves. Dull, green, and furry. I didn’t know what to make of it, but moss was accurate.

“How can we see the moss so clearly,” I pondered, “the sun is millions of miles away.”

“I don’t know.”

Our world now contradictory with its diseased sun. We were both disoriented. Selina wrapped her blanket around my shoulders and held me close. Was it over, or was it just the beginning?

Neither of us could say.