While the day dragged, mopping up dropped tears, Evan gazed beyond the trees to where an orange sun bled through the thick white cloud. Swell me with regret, sweet rue of bitter moments, Passed like sweetmeats before my eyes. Let me enjoy their passing. It is a sullen joy. Evan's seat grew warm as the hours wound around. But he did not move. The orange sun sank silently, and the cloud remained.