What We Keep (26 page)

The captain is going on about the sunset now, and I lift the shade impatiently, as if that will shut him up. But he is right in asking us to look; the sun is a rare, deep red, sinking slowly into bruised-looking clouds colored purple and black. I watch carefully, not seeing any movement yet. I will soon, though. You think the sun will hang in the sky forever, but once it reaches a certain point
in its descent, it goes so fast—flattens, seems to hover for one instant, and is gone. Then comes the darkness, which we illuminate artificially while we wait for the new day, for the rising up again of what once seemed lost.