The teacher sighed, his gaze wandering from his papers. The sun was setting, its golden light streaming in and painting the empty classroom with its enchanting hue. His eyes looked out the wall of windows at the little bit of forest, the tips of the trees just touching the heavenly disk. He knew it was his imagination, that the sun really didn’t fall or cover itself in the shadows of the firs, that the forest he saw was hardly anything, maybe all of ten trees, but from this angle they seemed just the beginning of a fantastic labyrinth of adventure.
At the End of the Day
Tale Told 