The summer heat only bothers to relent once its scalding sun sets, leaving the moon in its wake high up in the sky. Bright blue turns bleeds into an effervescent navy hue, perhaps there’s even hints of violet in there.

If there are, you can’t quite make them out. The color spectrum works a bit differently for you compared to how it does for Dante — you can blame your puppy genes for that.

Not like it really matters, though. So what if you can’t make out the tiniest bit of a shade within a sea of a solid color? Right now, all you care about is your owner smoothing his hand down the top of your head in a rhythmic manner.

“You look cozy.” Dante notes, keeping an arm draped over your back to keep you nestled against his side. He takes the hand that was on your head and pinches your cheek.

“C’mon, little puppy. Wag your tail or something for your old man, huh?”