After the Thunder Passes: "Payne's Gray" — A Contribution to the Single-Color Exhibition

Just as I thought the twilight was closing in earlier than usual, I felt like I heard a faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Ah, this isn't good. It smells like a storm."
From the small window of the food truck I sometimes stop by on my way home, a man in a stylish beret glares at the sky.

At his words, I gripped the strong Darjeeling tea I had just received in both hands and resolved to head home.

"Ah, take this with you. It's just leftovers, sorry, but I know you liked it."
What he handed me was a blueberry muffin larger than a fist.
It's so packed with fruit that it looks bluish or purplish, but it's exquisite.


"Thank you," I said, offering my thanks with few words.
"Get going before it starts pouring. Stay warm. Nothing good ever comes from thinking on a night like this, so just go to sleep."

I closed my front door as if fleeing through the hazy, streetlight-illuminated air.
Immediately, a thunderclap echoed nearby, illuminating my empty room.

Listening to the sound of the rain lashing against the house, I sat at the small table left in the corner.

Why did the old man say something that sounded like he knew it was goodbye...

The lightning casts a deep shadow of me.
I sat shallowly on the chair soaked in the time I spent with him—the one I decided to leave behind—and looked around the hollow, monochrome room.

That time was certainly colorful, though.
When did it start? When did we start seeing off only each other's shadows?

Thunder again.
Stop it, he told me not to think.
Even though he left without a word.

My closed eyelids are bathed in light.
I've decided to move on to the next thing.
To say goodbye to this room. To put away the memories.
Tomorrow morning, when the sun rises, I'll eat the muffin and set off.

I have written a new collaborative piece for the Single-Color Exhibition, which I have participated in before.
Thank you for your consideration.