Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, skies like watercolors stretching as far as he could see. The hue would deepen as the day progressed, but Christopher loved the early hours when pinks and yellow streaked across the horizon, and blues bled from barely there, to robin egg, to the deep azure that would follow them throughout the day. His apartment at the back of the store had a tiny patio that opened to the south. When he’d been growing up, Grandpa Julius had always taken his meals out there, reading over his newspaper or poring through auction catalogs as he ate.
Christopher did his best to have breakfast on the patio, at the very least. He was often too busy to get out there at other times of the day, but mornings, before the store had to open and any of the auctions or estate sales
