watch my purple sky fly over me

The garden was the only good thing about the mafia. It was beautiful, and Afonka found himself coming out here more and more, even as the weather became colder. Even in the dead of winter, with all the flowers gone, just the glistening snow was reason enough to keep the boy around.

Lying flat on his back, Afonka stared up at the night sky, the stars twinkling down on him. He should be asleep, but he'd tried, tossing and turning for what had felt like hours. So he'd come out here, breathing the frigid air and hoping that the clear night would somehow be able to clear his head.

But he'd tried. And the matter was that he couldn't clear his head. There was just too much going on.