When I open my eyes again, it’s twilight.
The last long rays of the sun streak the sky and stain the puffy clouds in a breathtaking array of hues— glowing reds, fiery oranges, golden yellows, pale pinks, soft blues, muted purples—with the faintest pricks of twinkling silver starlight piercing through the colors as the brightest stars begin to make their first appearances like performers in a play.
“Why do you hate it so?”
I roll towards the low voice, a rich rumbling baritone that’s enough to make my toes curl into the cool grass beneath my stockinged feet.
The source of my ear-candy lays supine on his flat stomach beside me, shirtless. The dying light highlights his flinty-black skin, picking out the fine nooks and crannies of his muscular physique like it does the ridges and crevice
