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

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.