Originally written on June 29.

I went outside to take out my trash. The sun had just set, but the sky wasn’t dark yet. The western sky was still light with the rays of the sun peeking around. The sky over my head was slowly becoming a deeper blue.

The gloaming.

The breeze played with my skirt, and I felt the prickles of freshly-cut grass under my bare feet as I stood in my front yard, looking west. Another day was done. But the gloaming, that fleeting time of light just before the world is covered in darkness, was a promise that another is yet to come.

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