One of these days, Carolyn, they had said, you are going to fall off that thing.

They just didn’t get it. Sure it was unsturdy, and high, but not nearly as so if you’d be by my side leaping through the unhammered nails and wooden blocks that lay there, scrambling up to see the sight. Like I had done, everyday, for two years. I doubt they’d ever finish building the tower.

That kind of thing wasn’t uncommon though. Kerning city didn’t have any money anyway. I leaned back on a bag of cement. I could still see the spot where I had leaned against it yesterday. I laughed, then turned to look out into a sunset that only Kerning City would ever see. Slashes of coloured strokes enveloped the sun. It looked like a child’s painting. A child who dragged a brush in wonder across a canvas for the first time, dipping into every colour, until all of it blended into a muddy colourful masterpiece. It was beautiful.

And that’s when I saw you. You glanced at me, so I waved, my hand stiff and heavy. Smile; wave; it had all become routine. Though not a bad one. No, I was fine with it. But then you had to talk to me, ask to train. As if there’s no excuse for awkwardness. I sighed inwardly as I went down to meet you. Why can’t you leave me alone now?

You climbed the construction site quickly, but with the familiar walk that I had always known. With your steps I felt your sense of uncertain certaincy, a sort of clumsy grace. I grinned, and for a moment, it was like before. You helped me up; it was out of courtesy I hope.

You smiled then, and it was like you were going to say something more, but a mushroom spawned in front of you and you stayed silent. We trained there for about an hour. It wasn’t like we needed the exp or anything. You sure don’t. But it seemed right to train there. We didn’t talk at all, yet somehow it felt as if all the layers of stiffness was tearing away from me with the time.

I had never watched the end of the sunset. I’d always go home before the sun disappeared completely. I wished it didn’t have to end, but it did, and it shadowed you in darkness. The sun had always set, and always will set. Yet it hurt me to watch it.

So when the sun began to disappear before us, I told you I had to go home. I bet you saw me looking at the sunset, because then you insisted on watching it with me. Why would you want to watch the sunset, I said, I don’t even know anyone who likes it but me. Everyone says its ugly.

I don’t think its ugly, you said, its made of very different types of colours, but it’s nice.

I took a long look at you, and apologized.

Then I left. No, I never watched the sunset with you, but I watched it by myself on the front steps of my house. Soon after that day, the sunset didn’t become such a big deal for me. I stopped going to the construction site everyday. I can still enjoy the canvas of colours, though it was no longer as beautiful to me. I realized a sunset meant a sunrise tomorrow.