Waiting for the Sun to rise
- a love story -

I've always been fond of the gray light before dawn. That pale, crepuscular light that sneaks over the horizon, long before the Sun ever shows itself. In that hour, the streets are almost empty, even in the most populous of cities. The odd early-bird, off to work, may pass you -- but mostly, you'll have the streets to yourself.

I often take a walk in that hour, before rushing off to sleep. Hiding from the Sun, just like I have, all these years. I used to do that, even before. I'd be pale, even without my... condition.

You used to share those hours with me, sometimes. They never meant as much to you. I could tell. But you kept me company, because you knew how much they mattered to me. That faint glimpse of the Sun that we would never see again.

I knew you thought me overly sentimental, that the predawn walks were frivolous. But you still accompanied me, and I really felt grateful for that. It was something that I tried, however faintly, to share with you.

It's been a long time since we went on one of those walks together. Every morning since they took you away from me, I have wandered the streets, thinking of you -- only to rush off to bed before the dawn.

I miss you, in a way that I cannot describe. The thought of you captured by that man, of your sweet body violated by his weapon... it is unbearable to me.

I miss you, and I can't go on without you.

That is why I sit here, this morning, on the rooftop of the city's tallest building, waiting for the Sun to rise. To burn me, tenderly, with its majesty.

Look, the Sun's first rays are creeping across the horizon, I can see them coming.

I see the Sun now, and like you, she is so beauti-

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