The winter sun hung low in the north. Barely breaking into daylight, it burned golden for hours, sending a cascade of rich yellow streams across the world, then faded swiftly when all its splendour was spent. On clearer days it explored the town houses, surging through their windows and alighting within. It flowed over furniture legs and brightened when it saw something to its fancy, lingering over books and blooms. It was brave in these days, battling back shadow into the recesses, letting darkness hide in hinges.
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