I do not recall that Richard and I spent any conventionally happy times together; it always seemed to be raining, a soft patter in the darkness, a downpour one Christmas Eve, a drear grey drizzle when his illness would confine him in the upstairs room I kept for him.
Mythril: Vol. 1:
3, Article 10.
Available at: https://dc.swosu.edu/mythril/vol1/iss3/10
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