I like the night sky after it's rained. The sky has a pinky-orange undertone, I quite like.You'd think an artist-writerish would describe colors better, but alas. She does have a gag reflex. And no, if you're asking if that feels good - it probably doesn't.
It's an unexpected color underneath the mask of night. It unsettles. Disrupts. I am one step closer to premature enlightenment.
I try to recall why I've never seen this until I went to college and I realize it's because I've never seen the sky at 3 or 4 in the morning after it has rained.
I let go of the good boy's tiny hand. I'm leaving him and I don't care to see his reaction. Where I'm going, he shouldn't come. There are things here he shouldn't see. It's unfortunate, but his mere presence is my imprimatura.
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