The Moon

1 1 0
                                    

It was early morning. So early, the sky was still asleep. But the moon wasn't. The moon was wide awake and lonely. Sure, there were stars, but those were light years away. No one was close. No one ever would be.

The moon knew this, of course. Even though you know something doesn't mean your thoughts will change. It's like when someone pushes you down. They may say sorry, but that doesn't mean the scrapes will disappear and your hands and knees won't hurt anymore. You'll still be hurt. Maybe not mentally, but physically.

The moon wanted to cry. It really did. But it couldn't. It's tears had dried out long ago. No one would talk to him. Everyone was just too, too far. So the moon did what it did best. It hid from sight until it was time to reappear, late at night, when it was needed most.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Written August 24, 2016

Short StoriesWhere stories live. Discover now