Sunlit Hours

‘I’m closing the blinds now,’ she said through the intercom at her son’s door.

There was a wail of despair. ‘But I’m reading, Mum!’

‘You’ve got to save your daylight for special occasions, Maxy. What happens when it’s your wedding day or the birth of your children and you can’t see them in the sun?’

She managed to ask this without her voice wobbling, without dwelling on her own missed opportunities. She’d used up her own sunlit hours long ago, so a touch of the blistering light could now mean the end of her life.

‘Please,’ Maxy said softly, his usual wheedling tone having given way to an earnestness she could never say no to. ‘Just five more minutes.’

She paused for a moment, finger on the button, observing through the protective screen the subtle play of light on her son’s face. Then she sighed and said, ‘Five minutes, then that’s it for the year.’

She was a pushover, she knew, and perhaps he’d blame her when his time in the sun was over, but for now it was worth it to know that such a thing as sunlight existed for those who were yet untarnished by its rays.

A folk musician and writer, Alice loves singing gloomy ballads and imagining strange worlds.