You never again at sunset, stopped at the red light at the intersection by Arby's. It's hard to pass up those two for seven gyros, and no one could know the sun would be so blinding at 08:43 p.m. Making its descent swallowed whole by the horizon. The it's hard to see straight with that ball of fire staring me straight in the face. Splotches of purple dots fill the spots that once were sky