“The sky is blood!” He screams and rushes to me, little hands gripping my thighs. I try not to laugh. “The sky is blood?” I echo. “Yes.” I smile. My brother Eli has the wildest imagination. Most nights he sleeps in my bed for fear of unknown things devouring him. It’s almost concerning. I stroke his blond mop of hair, scoop him up, and I’m climbing up a grassy knoll. I set him down at the top. We sit. “Those are fireworks.” I say softly. The expanse explodes again, this time in colors of green and blue. He grips me tight. “Fireworks?” He whines. I nod. “They can’t harm you. It’s just noise and pretty colors.” He relaxes. “I like to color.” I grin. “That’s what fireworks are. Colors for the sky.” He stared up, eyes wide and filled with excitement. At least I managed to convince him of the beauty of fireworks. Before long he’s making up stories about how one firework was on a mission to find his friends. And not to long after that, he’s asleep. Mission accomplished.