The colour of the sky

There is a moment, after a long week of snow or ice, when the low winter sun touches the tops of buildings. The air is crisp, sound is muted, and chunks of snow start to melt and fall apart, either as a whole or by disappearing into a thin mist, that the wind then scatters. In that moment, the city buildings fall apart, and only the colour of the sky remains. It is the colour of the sky after a long day, of a friend's smile, of a deep breath, of respite.