One summer’s day a little while ago – I say summer because it was hot enough to be summer, but actually it was a bright day in early September – Rich was sitting in the passenger seat of his brother’s car, and they were sailing through the countryside. Rich had had to put on his sunglasses because the day was so blazing. The sun seemed to take up the whole sky; it glowed the fields green and the grass glistened like something precious. But despite all of that Rich had to wind up the window against the soft breeze, because although the day was so bright, and the sun so white-golden hot in the sky, there was something sharp there too.
There was something in the cool, light wind that hinted of colder months coming, like a hidden needle. And the sky, Rich realised now, wasn’t quite blue; even as he watched it was greying, darkening slowly, and as he realised this Rich was struck by the sight of the bloodied corpse of a bird flash by as the car rushed past it. The red of its splayed insides stuck in his mind for a second – then the dead thing was gone. But the sight of it had made Rich gasp – he jolted back against the seat, embarrassed by how much it had scared him. But quite suddenly he saw that the glory of the day vanished and now Rich was somewhere else, somewhere a darker where bad things were coming. And as fear curdled in his stomach it struck him quite deeply that everything is temporary, and that beautiful things can die if we so much as loosen our grip on them for a moment. That things can change in a day, an hour, a minute. Soon enough, though, only a little white later, the sun came out again from behind the growing clouds, and his fear, so visceral only a moment ago, was pushed from his mind, if only for a short while.
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just another starving artist.