Free to Write

Sunlight gleamed in the desert, reflecting from random rocks to shine directly in her eyes, which were blinking away sunlit tears. She loved the sun, but it could be too bright--one of the stories her father told from her childhood was driving along, and hearing a tiny voice from the back seat: "sun in de eyes." She missed him--it was terrible to think that this could be the last time she heard his voice.
It was setting now, and she was driving west, straight into the sunset which glowed crimson and turquoise in the sky. It was the kind of sunset that people couldn't paint because it didn't look real.