Leo had always assumed summer meant the sun was nearest. It made sense: hot, bright, scorching July afternoons, the sun beating down like a giant standing just overhead. So when his daughter Mia, age eight, asked him during a winter picnic, “Dad, when is the sun closest to Earth?” he answered with full confidence.
And every January, when people shivered and complained about the frigid depths of winter, Leo and Mia would look up at the pale sun—larger, technically, than any summer sun—and whisper to each other: during what month is the sun closest to earth
“July, sweetheart. Definitely July.” Leo had always assumed summer meant the sun was nearest
The answer appeared in crisp text:
Here’s a short story inspired by the question: “During what month is the sun closest to Earth?” scorching July afternoons
Leo smiled. “Exactly.”