Dusk

The setting sun tints the sky orange, pink, purple. Wisps of clouds, tinged golden, drift serenely as the blazing orange orb slowly disappears between the trees’ bare branches. It is unusually warm; a slight breeze could suddenly nip at the tip of your nose but in its absence, the thin, fragile shawl of early autumn’s warmth could settle on your shoulders. If you raise your head a little and close your eyes, you can feel its delicate weight on your skin. In the background, the muted din of motors running. A horn here, some music there. The distant sound of chatter from passers-by. The faint fragrance of dinner being prepared close by.

The change is subtle and before you realise it, the sun has almost sunk between the branches. The breeze is a little icier. People walking along the streets pull their jackets a little tighter about themselves, tug their hats lower over their ears. In their homes, people turn the lights on and chimneys smoke as dinner is prepared. Sparkling specks of glitter appear in the sky, scattered across its vast expanse, as dusk settles.

© Sohini Kumar

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