38. Sunset
The shadows wrap themselves around the large boulder in the day's dying light. Two huddled figures sit beneath the characters engraved upon it: the epitaph of their children. Their stringy grey hair clings lank about their bony shoulders and a multitude of wrinkles
furrow their thinly spread skin; they have aged before their time. They weep.
The sun's last rays fall upon their faces. A great intake and release of breath comes up from the woman. She is completely still: gone.
As darkness falls, the man bows his head. Never had a sunset so broken him.