“There’s never been a day without darkness.”
I remember my dad’s words with a clarity not afforded much else. He’d adjusted his starched collar with one finger as he spoke them, a bead of sweat noticeable beside one eye. This was unlike him; he never got flustered.
As I’m sure you’re thinking, too, every day is followed by night, so why the need for such melodrama? Why the need for such histrionics?
Now, as the lights dim to a claret night and the fire burns behind my eyes, as bones crack and the animal appears, I understand the truth. Soon, so will you.