Opportunity

The sun descended in the autumn twilight. A muted glow, like the final ember in a bonfire. Always different. Sometimes he wished he could film each day's sunset so that he would never miss a single smear of colours spread across the sky in myriad combinations. But even if he could save the evenings he knew there would never be time to watch the tapes. There was too much else to see, too much to feel. The days short and the nights shorter. Perhaps if he never slept he could do and see all that he wanted. He was tired of being bound by time and its devouring eyes, stealing so much of the beauty. A great deal left to the periphery, teasing all the time. And so he stayed up one night. He stared out his window and watched the sun's slow dial turn through the hours, and he hoped someone else was awake, seeing the day begin and knowing that it would never be repeated.