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Apr
1

Trevor sees a sunrise

There was no one event in particular that made Trevor realize he’d never truly witnessed a sunrise, obviously he’d been up when the sun was rising hundreds of times over the course of his life but he’d never anticipated it and given it his complete focus. Once this realization was made he knew this oversight must be corrected in all haste.

So the next day he slept in late and ate a healthy dinner and when the sun was ready to set he braced himself for what was sure to be a long night. A long night that would end with a sunrise.

He couldn’t have picked a better night. It was early summer and the temperature was nice enough that he wouldn’t even need a jacket. He could stroll leisurely into a nearby nature preserve and spend the night hiking up the side of a small mountain so that at the appropriate time he’d have a front row seat for the big reveal.

About an hour after the sun had disappeared below the horizon he craned his neck up and really looked at the clouds. He drank them in. Up until that moment he’d never drunk in a sky. The clouds looked like a cross between a quilt and the skin of an old giraffe he’d seen at the zoo. If that giraffe had sported a fluffier pelt. The longer he looked up the bigger the sky got until it was enormous and he felt a bit dizzy. He’d drunk in too much sky.

The giraffe skin made him remember a trip to the zoo he’d taken with an old best friend. They had seen a camel whose beleaguered hump had fallen and was just laying on its back and he told his friend that it was because the camel was unhappy. His friend corrected him and said that he was thinking of killer whales.

“Oh, you’re right” Trevor had replied, “They hate captivity.”

“We’re all captives to some extent” said his ex best friend whose name would eventually come to him. He’d said it very casually and with no drama and they moved on to the pandas.

Surrounded by trees there is always a small rustling noise going on somewhere. Be it the breeze or an unseen animal there is always something to listen to.

About ten o’clock he remembered when he was a kid and he’d been so impressed with a classmates drawing of a dragon that he’d bought it off him and then told his mother that he’d drawn it. She didn’t believe him for a second and it infuriated him.

“Why couldn’t I have drawn this?” he asked her.

“That’s not how you draw” she said tactfully.

“Well you’re wrong. I drew this” he replied defiantly.

His mother got up from the table and returned with a piece of paper and pencil. “OK then, draw me a dragon.”

Almost immediately he regretted trying. His dragon was awful. He was an awful artist and this dragon was starting of particularly awful. About a third of the way through its dopey-looking face he abandoned the effort and stormed off.

Trevor took a deep breath and realized how much he missed his mother. To have someone who cared enough about you to know how your terrible dragon would look before you even drew it was something that doesn’t come along a lot in life.

Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted.

The clouds that looked like fluffy giraffe skin had moved on and now the sky was clear. Really clear. Crazy clear. He felt like he was standing on a rock floating in the middle of a black abyss. Everything dropped away except the little points of light that he knew were in fact giant balls of burning gas billions of light years away. He suddenly missed his giant ball of burning gas.

About one o’clock he realized that his ball of gas was still burning away and if he were only on the other side of 7,917 miles of rock he could feel its warmth on his face. Instead he was facing the wrong way and a small chill ran through his spine. The dark has its charms but he missed the light.

At two o’clock he remembered a time when he dropped his pen while working. He looked down but couldn’t find it. Instead of just getting a new black pen he scoured the cream-colored carpet under his feet. He scooted around in his chair looking. It had to be there somewhere. It wasn’t. He began to move furniture, intent on finding it. Had he imagined dropping it? Had he imagined that he’d been working? Eventually he found the pen behind his desk. It was impossible though. There was no way it could have bounced or rolled there. No way at all. He never figured it out and now he wondered if he’d just imagined the whole thing.

About three o’clock he remembered an old girlfriend, she would talk in her sleep but only moments before waking up so most mornings started off confusing, and was forced to admit to himself that he didn’t know if he wished her well or not. He liked her and they parted ways mostly, about 83%,  friendly but when he thought about her being happy without him it hurt a bit. When he thought about the possibility that she was unhappy it also hurt. No wonder he buried his emotions whenever he had the chance.

“You don’t see rock or balls of gas getting so conflicted” he said to himself.

He arrived at the top of the mountain, which anyone who was familiar with real mountains would definitely think of as a hill, in plenty of time. Crickets provided the soundtrack. He’d spent the night wandering through a forest, which anyone who was familiar with real forests would definitely think of as the suburbs, alone with his thoughts and he was ready to wrap things up.

He sat down cross-legged and waited. Excited.

Finally it started.

A purple glow that slowly turned red. Orange made an appearance and suddenly the entire horizon was on fire.

And slowly his eyes adjusted and he saw it.

A single shaft of light.

His long night was almost over.

The sun.

His world was turning (at a thousand miles an hour).

He realized he was crying.

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