Downpour

THE MOST BLUE SKY

It's warm.

There's a low buzz by his ear, presumably some sort of small insect. He bats it away without opening his eyes, lost in the feeling of the warmth on his arms and legs.

It's the kind of warmth that comes from sitting in sunshine for a while, the kind that reaches down to your bones. Even the grass around him is warm, brushing his arms as he stretches.

He opens his eyes.

He's sat on the top of a hill, looking down onto a huge city that he swears he's never seen before.

It's beautifully coloured in shades of silver, blue and gold, shimmering in the sunlight, white reflecting off of their metallic surfaces. The buildings stretch impossibly high into the clouds, puncturing them like pillows, the stuffing falling out.

Even from this close, it seems small and mappable. It's almost as if he's looking down on it, through there's clearly a path that leads from where he's sitting to the largest of the skyscrapers.

It's strangely quiet as well, a sort of silence that doesn't seem to fit with the cities he's seen before. It's too clean, too perfect.

Everything around him is at full vibrancy.

He sits up, lost in staring for what seems like hours.

He only manages to come back to earth when the buzzing by his ear returns. This time he can see the insect, a brightly coloured bee flying harmlessly around his shoulder. His hand is right by a small pink flower, he notices, though he can't quite remember the name of it.

There's something else, something that he can't quite place. Something to do with the sharp sting in his neck, perhaps, his hand coming up to massage the area.

He stands up.

Something missing.

But as much as he thinks, as much as he tries to remember, his mind stays completely blank.

But he knows that there's people in the building that the path leads to waiting for him, people that will welcome him.

He takes his first steps into the city, rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes.