Morning Story

I wrote this very story in my first year of University before I moved to Toronto.  I was given an assignment to write a morning story, an afternoon story, and an evening story.  I always liked this one the best.

Morning Story

It’s the kind of early that feels unnatural. As though the world hasn’t yet begun. Perhaps I am the beginning, perhaps it starts with me. As the sun slowly rises and the day slowly comes into being, all thoughts of the night before come thundering back. They come back strong and they come back painful. It all feels different on the other side of the sun. It may still be full of hurt, but at the same time it seems somehow clearer. The blame can be replaced, the guilt can be diminished, and the anger can take the place of a sadness that seemed to be the only possibility in last night’s darkness. As the sun ends the world for another day, the feelings will shift once more. They will continue to shift with the rising of the sun until one unnatural morning as the world and I begin, they will vanish without a trace.

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About laurengowing

I read prose. I write prose. I don't really read poetry, but sometimes I write it.
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