"Mama, look… Dad grilled sunflower seeds!"
He ran through the field, the seeds warm in his palm, still carrying the faint smell of smoke and sun. The soil beneath his feet felt soft, and the dry stalks brushed lightly against his legs as he moved. Around him, the field seemed alive, thousands of sunflowers standing tall, their golden faces turned in the same direction. A cool breeze passed through, carrying the soft rustling of leaves.
The sky above had softened. Orange melted into amber, then into a thin line of violet at the horizon. His mother sat on a mat in the middle of the field, her laughter calm and unhurried, blending into the quiet of the evening.
The warmth faded. The wind stopped. Darkness swallowed everything. He was on the ground, the smell of fuel and burnt metal filling the air. A sharp ringing echoed in his ears. His hands pressed against the cold surface beneath him, broken glass shifting under his fingers.
"Mama… wake up…"
His voice trembled, but there was no answer. He turned his head slowly. "Dad…?" A few steps away, his father lay still. "Dad! Get up… please…!" His voice broke as he called again and again. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. Only silence remained.
He woke up, his breath uneven and his body tense, sweat clinging to his skin. For a moment, he didn't move. The feeling stayed with him—heavy and cold. He turned his head slowly and looked at the time. 5:45 AM.
He stepped outside. The morning air was calm, and the field stretched endlessly before him. The sun had just begun to rise, its light spreading across the land, touching each flower. The stalks swayed gently, brushing against each other with a soft, steady sound.
Everything looked the same.
His eyes lifted toward the sky.
The sun—
It was crumbling.
He stood still as the field moved around him, golden and untouched, while fragments of light broke away and fell silently, like ash.