Fantasy

There Goes The Sun

Flash fiction

Caitlin McColl
9 min readFeb 12, 2022

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Photo by Abed Ismail on Unsplash

It started just like any other normal Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the fact I was carrying a folded cot with me. I don’t usually bring that with me to work, but today was unusual, right off the bat. Not just because I had to dig through my under the stairs storage to find the old musty cot for a co-worker who had the great idea to try ‘glamping’ in the middle of the Scottish summer, where it is more rain than anything else. Which would possibly explain why my cot was a bit musty. Nonetheless, I was being a good co-worker and bringing said cot into work. Now people who know me would laugh if they saw me walk into work with a cot strapped to my back like some kind of over-enthusiastic hiker. Me, hiking? I’d be laughed out of the office! My scrawny pale and pasty chicken legs hadn’t seen hide nor hair of sun or outdoor activity in a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m an active guy, but I’m more of a gym rat…or mole, I guess you could say. I’m the guy who keeps to himself in the corner of the gym, hoping other people won’t notice I’m there. In any case, going to the gym is good, because it meant I had brought a change of clothes with me that morning on the train, folded neatly at the bottom of the old canvas sack of a backpack I used every day. Not very professional of me, I know.

Along with my usual items I always had with me: my SPF 15 lip balm that was permanently attached to my keychain that also handily doubled as a little mini-flashlight — helpful for those nights when you get home late, and can’t see the keyhole to open the door; a worn and well-used riddle book I used to pass the time on the commute to and from work, to save me from looking out on the dreary grey upon grey landscape that flew past. I had used that morning’s Daily Herald I picked up to actually read on the train as a makeshift umbrella, as the heavens opened up. By the time I got on the train, the paper was a soggy mess, unreadable, the pages sticking together and tearing like tissue. It wasn’t the end of the world, though, even though my disposable umbrella cost me almost 2 quid for ten minutes.

Because it was Thursday, and that meant sushi for lunch. But it wasn’t even 9am and I was already starving. My single cup of coffee wasn’t doing the trick. I took out the rectangle of pre-packaged…

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Caitlin McColl

I write about mental health, grief & loss, mindfulness, running, general musings (+ fiction and poetry!). ❤️coffee & dogs. Vancouver 🇨🇦