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                                        Chapter 97: The Boy Who Fell (1)
                                
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... ’t the sunlight that woke her; the double blind made sure no unruly ray dared trespass. It was the faint, warm scent of butter and flour.
She arched her back, black dress sliding up her thighs, and glanced at the glowing phone: 12:03 p.m. Evidently, she and Astra had spent the better part of the night solving the universe’s existential dilemmas over cold chips, then collapsed into their respective bedrooms without bothering to change.
Rows of identical royal blue silk waited in A ...
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