The Sun and the Moon by Nikita Eismont

The Sun’s body, nearly completely lifeless,

was resting on the floor of a cave this couple of celestials inhabited since 36 years ago. It was the season of light and darkness back then, and now the last embers of an era almost finished smouldering. The Moon lay down on the floor and embraced her partner’s body. A dying star emitting the highest amount of light it ever did and a mirror embracing this light, as if it did somehow realize that it would soon start fading — their collective glow alone could power the entire universe for at least a few more eons, given the chance. Was it that there was a single other consciousness left to behold the both of them as they lay down there, it would seem that tomorrow everyone’d get up to drink a cup of water each yet again. Alas, by now only one of them had remained awake, and was now getting ready to go to bed. She recounted the chores she had completed, struggling to compare them with the to-do list on the coffee table. The letters started slipping away as the darkness slowly flooded them, less and less easily repelled by the remainders of her light. She walked to the fridge to adore their engagement photo, held down by a magnet they got in the gift shop that day. It was slightly crooked, and even though no eyes would ever see it again, she lamented not masking her craters with concealer back then. Struggling not to stumble, she managed to walk back to the Sun and lie down yet again, now ready. 

And as the Moon’s breath announced its leave, a growing silence greeted the dead cosmos, inviting it to rest.