The sky never got black in Bennington; after sunset it darkened from cyan… cerulean… a gorgeous indigo reminiscent of her mother’s favorite scarf. As the night progressed it went further through the spectrum… saphire… Prussian… midnight. It complimented his cornflower eyes and hypnotized those still awake. Once it finally darkened, a deep denim blanket with splatters of stars, they went on a ghost tour around the old mansion. He pointed out portraits sheathed in a layer of steel dust — letting off an eerie glow. They finished in front of the hutch of handblown glass, periwinkle goblets arranged in rows that glittered. It still wasn’t enough of her for him and he asked her to stay out longer, maybe go for a walk. He guided her to places she’d never seen. Places where the moon’s rays painted the scene with cobalt kisses, where ultramarine pools could be home to fairies and night nymphs.
They walked for miles that night, dropping breadcrumb-pieces of their lives on trails that crossed campus.
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