#Chapter8
Summer was beautiful.
Awe-worthy, like the tentative glow of a newly winged angel's halo, the sunlight that crept into the room stole Sylvester's breath. It held within its long, piercing arcs the colours of the rainbow and the secrets of the universe, and as it slithered across the floorboards to where he lay flat on his back on the cloud-shaped rug, it filled him with an undeniable warmth.