The Counterfeit Sun

Kespan

Father, husband, software engineer, and aspiring writer.


Ryan and I cruised down the interstate at 2AM, laughing and talking about inconsequential things, radio blaring some long forgotten rock song. I turned to speak, but never had the chance, as blackness enveloped us.

I raised my head from where it was resting against the window and looked over at Ryan’s confused eyes.

“What the hell was that? Did we fall asleep?” I asked.

“What?” He looked as baffled as I felt. “No.. I was just driving..we were talking about..about..” He trailed off, muttering.

I squinted against the bright sun, high overhead, shining down through the windshield. “What time is it?”

Ryan glanced at his watch. “2:30..AM? Huh?”

I pulled out my cell phone and it too said 2:30AM. That can’t be right, I thought. I dialed my parents, and my father answered. My mom was sobbing in the background.

“Dad, what time is it?” I asked, bracing myself for the answer.

“It’s…it’s 2:30 in the morning. The sun…it..it..”

As he went on, the reality of the situation hit me, and I too began to weep.


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Uh-oh. I'm not sure about the science behind this one, but it seems like these people don't have much time.

  • #1381 Posted 2 years ago
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