“What color is a sunset?” He asked with curiosity draped along his ears.
I peered deep into his golden stare and smiled. “It’s whatever color the fire is behind your eyes.”
I thought it an odd question to ask but he’s only ever lived in a dream. And I don’t dream of sunsets in the night, only the constellations he was born from. All he knows is the darkness of a vast, night sky and I am his only source of light, the moon in his world of endless twilight.