Sunset Notes
March 23, 2025
Lily always sat on the same park bench every evening, sketchbook in hand, watching the sun dip below the horizon. It was her quiet escape from the world—until the notes started appearing.
The first one was tucked between the wooden slats of the bench.
“You always seem lost in thought. What do you see when you look at the sunset?”
Lily glanced around, but the park was mostly empty. Who had left it? She hesitated before scribbling a reply on the back.
“I see endings. And beginnings.”
She left the note where she found it. The next day, another was waiting for her.
“That’s poetic. Do you believe every ending brings a new beginning?”
Her heart skipped. She wrote back.
“I want to. But some endings just feel like loss.”
The notes continued, always appearing as if by magic, always waiting for her as the sky burned in shades of pink and gold.
“Maybe loss is just a chapter, not the whole story.”
“You sound like someone who knows about endings. What’s your story?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you one day. What’s yours?”
“Still being written.”
Weeks passed, and their notes became something she looked forward to more than the sunset itself. She found herself wondering about him—who he was, if he sat nearby watching her the way she searched for him.
Then, one evening, a different kind of note appeared.
“Meet me at this bench tomorrow at sunset?”
Lily’s breath caught. Was she ready for this?
The next day, she arrived early, heart pounding. The sun began its descent, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks. And then—
A shadow fell beside her.
She turned and found him. Dark hair tousled by the wind, warm brown eyes filled with quiet curiosity, a folded note in his hand.
“You came,” he said.
She smiled. “So did you.”
He hesitated, then held out the note. “One last one.”
Lily took it, unfolded the paper, and read.
“Maybe some sunsets are meant to be shared.”
She looked up at him, heart full. “I think you’re right.”
And as the sun melted into the horizon, she realized that sometimes, the most beautiful stories weren’t written on pages but in quiet moments, shared between two hearts.