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It’s one forty-five in the morning and the sky is bright. Not with stars or the lights of buildings rising through the night, but bright like day. Lit with shades of pale yellow like some old forgotten painting; phosphorescent as it burns, and blinding.
Otabek forces his stinging eyes away, and looks to Yuri.
Bookmarked by TrueLovesRose2000
30 Jan 2017
