scene forty-six - field - year ten

Unlike everything else in their life, that sunset… that sunset was fucking beautiful. Maybe they’d tripped over their own feet and muddy patches of ground half a million times, and torn a hole in their school pants, and looked like they were high on something from the redness shining vibrantly in their eyes, but that sky—it looked like it had been painted by a master artist, no, by a God. The streaks cascading outwards from the great, dying ball of golden-orange light were magnificent, stroking the light red-pink canvas as they carved their ways upwards and outwards, far away from their origin.