Nobody remembers that night. Nobody except me. The glow of the sky denoted nothing but sunset to most people. I knew better, or tried to, at least. I didn’t watch the sunset, or turn on the TV when I heard people in the street start talking about Life, and Proof.

I guess that’s why I remember. Not all of it, of course. But flashes. It’s more than anyone else does. There are photos of that red evening everywhere. Where there aren’t photos, there are paintings. I see it in adverts, hear it in music. It is everywhere. Like Them.

Nobody remembers a time when They weren’t here. They’ve always been here, my friends, my lovers tell me. Forever. Watching over us, keeping us safe. Safe from what? I ask. They are never clear on that point.

All this time, and never another like me. There must be someone out there, somewhere. I have no idea how to contact them, what I would do if I found them. Whether it would be worth trying to rebel, or whether it’s true and They really are protecting us.

So I look at each new, different sunset. And I hope that the other person who remembers is there, looking too. It’s not hope, really. But it’s the best I can do.

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Writer of mainly spec-fic, I also play roleplaying games, particularly enjoying the shared storytelling.

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