The windows had returned, letting in violet, orange, and red sun rays. They fell over chairs and sofas, a dark fireplace, a scenic portrait on the wall, and an empty corner that might have once borne a pianoforte or a harp. Seemed the right size. As Merritt watched, those smoky curls reformed themselves in the corner, muting the sunset. The ceiling warped like it was being stretched by a torrent of rain water. The carpet ruffled like the fur of a threatened cat.
