July 17, 2018 6:39 am
“The sun’s coming up.”
“What?”
“The sun’s coming up.”
“It does that, in the morning.”
“Wanna take a look?”
“No, I want to sleep.”
“You should see it, the colours and everything.”
“Pink. It’s bound to be pink. Go to sleep.”
“How do you know what colour it is?”
“Because it’s always pink. Clear sky, pink clouds, pink sunrise. Pink.”
“I’ve seen sunrises that aren’t pink.”
“I’m happy for you, really. So, get up or go to sleep, either way I don’t care about the pink sunrise.”
“You should you know. After all, it may be your last.”
“What?”
“Well, we don’t know, do we?”
“Well that’s a cheery fucking thought. Thanks for that. How am I going to sleep now?”
“Just think, it could be your last sunrise and you’re missing it because you want to stay in bed and sleep.”
“So then just think, it would also be my last sleep and I’m missing it watching a bloody pink sunrise. Go to sleep!”
Posted by Christopher Farley
Categories: Dialogue, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Humour, insomnia, Short Fiction Stories, story, words, Writing
Tags: dawn, Fiction, Flash Fiction, humour, insomnia, morning, night, Relationships, summer, sunrise, words, Writing
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