|top| — Irisintheesky

One evening, she met a boy on the rooftop who said, "That's a weird username."

And then it would happen: a slit of cerulean between bruised thunderheads. A single feather of cloud shaped like a question mark. The way the sunset bled orange into lavender as if someone had dropped a watercolor brush mid-stroke. irisintheesky

"I think I see it," he said.