Glass Bottles and Failed Sunsets

Dear Heart,
It is becoming tradition for Tilly and I to curl up on her bed on gray afternoons and whisper secrets to each other. Don't mistake me - I love it, but I wish she had happier secrets to share. Her tears stained my gray shirt and made my own throat sore with swallowed sadness.
There was no sunset to be seen today, and I'm inclined to think the sun didn't set at all, but sulked behind the clouds, pouting. I drew this on the train back to Cardiff with whatever tools I had to hand. A sunset of sorts...
Love, Lydia x

Day 12: Sunset