There were twelve of us at the dinner table when my sister and I washed dishes. I was never in a hurry to finish the chore because of the evening entertainment just outside the kitchen window. The main character, a blazing ball of hot orange, bowed for the final curtain call. Exiting stage right, it hung back a little sharing the limelight with its supporting cast, the streaks of brilliant colors. These streaks would blend and bend like ribbon candy. I held my applause, gripping the last plate, entranced. Next, I’d drain and refill the sink to wash the pots and pans. Like an automaton, I’d scrub them, my attention fixed on those colors. They were different every night. One night the reds would dominate with a stage presence so profound that cold stones wept and glimmered with tears. On other nights, the yellows and pinks prevailed. Their dainty and wispy wings would flutter a final good-bye. Sometimes all the bands would orchestrate together in a medley so compelling that it I would genuflect. Nothing compared to those sunsets until everything went black.
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- Writing Prompt: Everything Went Black (writerhime.wordpress.com)