There, she'd think. There I am.
"See that?" she said. "Right there. The space between the clouds where the light gets through. That's me. Not the whole sky. Just the part that's looking back." irisintheesky
She didn't get defensive. She just pointed at the horizon, where the first stars were pricking holes in the darkening dome. There, she'd think
And for the first time, Iris felt like someone had finally looked up. "Right there
It was her handle, her mantra, her secret signature on everything from sketchbook corners to the condensation on a windowpane. When people asked why, she'd just point upward.
And then it would happen: a slit of cerulean between bruised thunderheads. A single feather of cloud shaped like a question mark. The way the sunset bled orange into lavender as if someone had dropped a watercolor brush mid-stroke.