Sunset

It’s just past seven and rain is on the horizon. There is little time. She pulls on her boots, clomps down the stairs. Her mother is in the kitchen staring into a pot. The burner is off. They had already said goodbye so she exits the back door without a word.

Off the porch, through the gate, onto the forest path. Her first time since the therapy was complete. Instinctually, she reaches for the guide rope, her nose, and her ears. She must consciously look. The violent blue of the coarse rope surprises her. Its texture fit the theme of the tree it hung from and she expected it to share a similar hue. The verdant canopy draws her gaze next. A near trip brings her eyes back down to the trail.

The forest gives way to pasture. She walks up to the barbed wire and looks over the empty field. The sun hangs low as distant rainclouds pass above it and showers fall between them. This lensing haze gives the sun a sickly, bloated appearance with fuzzy defined edges.

She whistles. Silence. Then the clink of bells, a growing chorus of baas. She closes her eyes to savor the comforting sounds. Snaps them open because this is the whole reason. She watches a dozen sheep crest the hill with healed eyes. They trot toward her, stretching out then clumping up like a rubber band. They push their heads through the fence and she tries to pet them all at once.

She climbs the fence. She’s not supposed to, but what does it matter now. She sits on the grass as the sheep crowd her. She breathes in their stench, and the grass and dirt. Digs her fingers into their thick coats. She looks at them for the first time. Looks at their creamy curly fur, their floppy ears, into their eyes with oblong pupils.

The light gets funny. One edge of the sun seems to be swelling like a tumor. It ruptures. Plasma spews as ink swirled in water. Its structure wilts. The singularity is here. It eats the sun before her eyes.  Early evening becomes twilight in a matter of minutes.

“I’ve just seen your faces,” she flips open her smartphone and turns on the flashlight. The sheep shift restlessly, let out worried bleats. She does her best to comfort them. The rain finally arrives as the sun goes out.