Then.

I once drew a picture of my house, my friend Katie, and the purple four-petal flower I wanted to give her. The house was red, the grass green, our skin yellow, and the heavens blue. But behind us was just white.

Once inside the picture, I stood on the ground and almost bumped my head on the cerulean strip gracing the top of the world. I looked appreciatively at my house’s windows that provided unfettered vistas out of the page. I looked at Kate, so skinny like a model, and held out my flower.

Clouds walked languidly across the sky.