You look up to see the cloudless sky. You’re past the age of asking why it’s blue, but you’re still fuzzy on the details. Something about the reflection of the ocean, you think, before remembering it was just what your mother would say to make you go away. She spent too much time with her nose in a magazine to care for any problems beyond her periphery. So you believed her, despite living miles from the nearest puddle. And here you are, staring at endless oblivion, without knowing why the whole damn thing is blue. Oh well, it doesn’t matter.