Christelle Dabos

In the dusk, through a corridor of crimson-turning clouds, the moon already stood out, like a china plate, against the mauve backcloth of the sky.

Here, before you, I predict that your husband’s will is going to shatter against yours

It’s your heart that he really needs, not your hands.”

Having feared that she hadn’t earned Berenilde’s esteem, she now felt crushed under the weight of her expectations.

Hector was insatiably curious, asking his “why”s to anyone prepared to listen.

Ophelia tilted her head to see whether the sky was looking that menacing. She thought she was seeing things when, instead of clouds, she saw Thorn’s grim face.

Swings alive, aren’t we swaying rather too much?

When would you like me to return?”

“Me?”

When would you like me to return?”

“Me?”

When would you like me to return?”

“Me?”