STORY OF A SUNSET

- You're beautiful.
SUNSET - Eh, modesty aside ...
- But you put on some restlessness.
- Because?
- Hide something. I bet you are a metaphor.
- You found me out.
- Why do you behave like this?
- I'm a sunset. Being a metaphor is my job. People look at me, think about the end of something and cry.
- And this thing amuses you?
- Enough. We sunsets are sadists who feed on your tears. A sunset that doesn't make you cry is doing everything wrong.
- What kind of metaphor are you this time?
- I'll tell you right away. What are you looking at?
- You.
- Where I am?
- On the desktop.
- How long have you not watched a real sunset?
- Months. Maybe years.
- I'm a metaphor for that.
- Real sunsets?
- A part of you.
- I'm crying. You are a bastard.
- It's my job. Do not get mad. I am a sunset. I make people cry.

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