Eight Minutes
Eight Minutes in which sunlight is always late Sunlight takes eight minutes to reach the Earth. Juno learned this in fourth grade, the same year her mother left to work on the solar relay, and she understood immediately what it meant: everything the sun did, her mother saw first. "So you're eight minutes ahead of me," Juno said on the call, delay crackling between them. "Something like that," her mother said. "When your sunset starts, mine already happened. I'll tell you if it's going to be a good one." It became their ritual. Every evening, a message: Big one tonight. Lots of pink. Wait for it. And eight minutes later, the pink arrived over the apartment blocks exactly as promised, and Juno would stand on the balcony feeling like the keeper of a secret — that the sky was a
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