Henry looked out at the shifting gradients of the sky. "It looks like... like a painting that hasn't dried yet. Deep oranges at the base, fading into this impossible teal. It’s so sharp it hurts."
"That’s the mountain air cleaning out your city lungs," Delilah replied. "Enjoy the view, Henry. In this light, even the mistakes look like masterpieces."
"Delilah, you seeing this?" Henry asked, his voice barely a whisper against the vast silence.
