THE GIRL WHO LOVES SUNSET
Ava had always thought that sunsets were honest.
“They never promised permanence. They never swore that the night wouldn’t come. But they burned brightly for a short moment, then gracefully faded out. That’s why she loved them, because they reminded her that endings don’t have to be ugly in order to be real.”
Tonight, however, the sunset was like a warning sign.
She was in front of the mirror in Ethan’s apartment, smoothing her dress for the fourth time. The dress was soft blue. It was modest, yet it was elegant. This was a dress that did not draw attention to itself. Her image in the mirror was tranquil, with underlying doubts.