Ink spilled across the sky above; faint colors swirled and mixed into one another, flickering dots scattered all across; a masterpiece without a canvas.
Most would admire such a breathtaking sight, but it reminded him all too much of the one he missed.
Castor lay on the grass below. It felt less like a comfort than ever. He clutched a clear bottle filled with a fine glittery material the color of honey.
Her.
It was all he had left. A gi...
