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The Missing Sunrise by Sebastian BrigliaSUMMARY: So you go for a jog before the sun comes up and next thing you know it's the middle of the day and you have a strange pendant around your neck. When you give the pendant to a toddler you become his personal monkey, when an old man has it you're his vision
"I'm so fat, sometimes I think my sweat would congeal and make me stick to this bench if I don't wipe it," says an out of breath voice next to you in the park. She is tall and broad shouldered, kind of cute. You don't notice fat until you look at her thighs. Her back side is like a bean bag chair that the rest of her seems to constantly sink into. The shocking difference between her top and bottom is mysterious and exciting. And dangerous, like and iceberg. She is middle aged and charming, not despite, but in harmony with her body shape. Her pulled back hair seems to be squeezing more sweat from her body. You expect her to fall off her virtual bean bag chair at any time, and somehow you could tell she wouldn't mind if you laughed.
Just a moment ago you were thinking of a stunning creature with a contagious smile and messy hair sitting on your lap by the river. Must have staid in your mind since you woke up from a dream. A complete fabrication.
It's an early morning. A violet morning. A morning so early some may call it night. Why are you up this early? It's too early to remember, but you're wearing your running sneakers so you must be out for a jog. You don't remember when you started doing this.
So you're on the track, by the river, all you can hear is your breath. You've been running for a while. You think maybe you should slow down a little. The sky is now going from indigo to blue. You stop to catch your breath, maybe have a drink of water. You're sweating. There is a bench next to you and you sit. You know you shouldn't, but you do it anyway. Just a little break. So you're next to the lady who seems to be draining the bottom half of her body through the top and be very cheerful about it.
"Nice pendant," she says as she stands, smiling, floating on her jiggling bubble seat as it follows her. "What pendant?" you think as you touch your chest, and there it is. A green stone on a string. Something you would never wear.
Suddenly you notice that morning daylight surrounds you. Where did the sunrise go? Did you fall asleep, you wonder. And where did that pendant come from? Maybe the bottom-heavy lady came by and put it on your neck while you were sleeping. It's a cheap little thing. Maybe she took your wallet. You check your pocket, the wallet's there. Everything seems to be in order, except that there is a pendant on your person where there wasn't one a moment ago. And the small detail that you seem to have lost half a day.
The park is now teeming with people. A woman with her little child is by the water fountain across the path. She has tied her sweater around her waist. It's getting warmer, a little too warm for early March, you think. You take off the pendant and you look at the green stone. It's a Maori green stone. Jade. Shaped like a tear drop.
You say something like "Excuse me, was I asleep on the bench before? Was I wearing this pendant?" She is a young mother. A single mother, judging from the absence of a wedding band. Not fashionably dressed, her eyes are young but they've missed some sleep. Her little boy is pulling in the other direction.