The morning sky is kissed the color of cotten candy and Artemis Crock is on a train.
She counts it funny in an ironic sort of way the night played out.
The way the sky changed color by the hour.
How at one in the morning the sky is pitch black and the air is cold and she wears a ridiculously large jacket and walks halfway across campus to end up in front of a closed door with chipped paint.
How at two in the morning the stars start shining through and she finally knocks, she gets splinters. The door opens anyways.
How at three she's sitting inside a small bright apartment that's much to warm compared to the cold December air and frost bitten fingers that presides right through a thin plank of wood with a knob. Wally puts the kettle on. She sheds a few layers. She can't see the sky.
How at four she's storming out and she doesn't know if it's just her or if the sky has lightened a little bit. Wally is in tow and her jacket is back on but this time she's wearing a cheesy hat with the schools colors that announces she's on the track team or rather her boyfriend is but no one needs to know that.
How at five they are sitting in Wally's really beat up pick up truck that's been painted over so many times Artemis can't really tell if it's supposed to be blue or not. The windows are foggy and she draws mindless patterns on them and outside the sky is tinted a sort of white and in a way it looks like the stars are crystals. Artemis holds her breath for a moment and reflexively breaths out not even realizing for a moment she thought the world could have been infinite.
How at six they've piled out of the car and into the diner where Megan works. Overhead on the establishment's ceiling they've painted a bright sunny day and Megan takes the night shift because she claims the cheaply painted sunshine is almost as good as the real thing. Artemis almost agrees.
How at seven she and Wally catch the train back home to get to their early morning classes. They leave the almost blue pick up alone in the diner's desolate parking lot, Artemis pulls down the hood of her jacket but leaves her gloves on, Wally smiles and his lips are chapped and his nose is sunburned and there are bandaids buried under the sleeves of his coat from where he's fallen on their school's track.
He can run a nine second fifty.
How at seven oh one they lace their fingers together and they watch as the sky is kissed pink and blue like a bruise by the hesitant morning sun.
She stares harder at the morning sky and cares less that it's mainly obscured by the train's steely doors and that she can see their reflection in the glass.
Because at seven oh three she vaguely realizes that somewhere along the way she probably had fallen in love with Wally.
She's 73% sure it's not a bad thing.