Mark rolled over and looked at his clock though one bleary eye. Six forty-three. Mark grunted angrily. He had gotten to sleep only three hours ago. Oh well. No getting back to sleep now.

Mark stumbled out of bed and picked up the shirt he had worn yesterday. He slipped it over his shoulders without looking at it and pulled aside the curtain in his room, only to see darkness, with just a hint of pink light playing along the edges of the crashing waves. Mark was intrigued. In all his years of living on Radio Rock, he had never actually seen a sunrise.

Mark pulled on a pair of boots kept by the door and a knit wool hat that one girl had left some months ago before slipping out of his room, through the halls of the ship, and outside into the chilly spring air.

Gusts of wind rocked Radio Rock to and fro, and pushed clouds advancing on the horizon away. Mark approached the raining along the edge of the boat just as the glowing orb of the sun rose above the storming waters. The skies colored themselves a dark, dark pink, and wisps of purple clouds darted around. Mark vaguely remembered an old sailors' rhyme: "Red skies at morning, sailor take warning. Red skies at night, sailors' delight." Mark had never seen a sky burn red at all, until now. Hopefully there won't be much radio interference, he though.

Evidently, nature had never heard that old sailors' rhyme, because as the sun rose further, the winds died down, leaving great swathes of dark purple clouds among the fading pink. The mirror image of the still-ascending sun shined in the water, casting tiny sun-shaped reflections everywhere as the water rose and fell..

Mark felt a sudden warmth around his shoulders. He reached up to his shoulders and felt a woolen blanket, then looked around and saw Carl, standing by his side, wrapped in another blanket.

"You looked cold," Carl explained. Mark nodded and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The two stood in silence as the sun finally rose completely out of the English Channel into its rightful place in the sky.

Eventually, the muted buzz of activity and conversation in the cabins grew louder and the smell of Felicity's eggs rushed toward them. Carl looked up at Mark. "We should go in, I guess."

Mark nodded. The two turned away from the skies and started into their proxy home. The prospect of loud conversation and dirty jokes seemed unwelcome after the peace of a sunrise.

"Mark?"

"Hm?"

"Why is your shirt inside out?"