There's a crazy man walking around campus. We know because he's been here for the last ten years or so, helping people cross the (perfectly safe) streets, unnerving women with his movie-star smile (his teeth look like the bowling pins that remain after a bad set). They say he's crazy because he dresses up like a superhero, mask and cape and all, and sometimes his cape is a flag or a giant fluttering red cloth with angry protests written in white paint ("Down with the administration! Down with oil prices!").
The students know his story--he is a poor man, whose poverty took half his mind away. He is nicknamed "Zorro" because of his mask and hat and misplaced gallantry.
Today, Zorro is using one hand to expertly twirl his butterfly knife, watching the rusted blade dance into the air. His other hand is closed around a string, which is tied to a plastic toy car rolling behind him as he walks.
Today, his cape is a tattered batik--washed-out blue like the summer sky. The dye is fading, the tassels unraveling. It's the only thing the students see as Zorro takes his last earthly step and rises up into the air suddenly,
"Like Jesus!" a vendor exclaims to the news anchorman, later on.
"Like an angel!" says a scrawny street urchin, scratching his head.
"It could've been a case of mass hallucination." explains a professor, rubbing his temples.
The faded blue cloth melds into the sky, perfectly.
The next color shall be Carnelian. :)