On a languid afternoon, the sunlight was diced into squares by the windows of the treehouse, wrapping around little Si as if dipped in the fragrance of coffee and ink, spreading across the carpet.
Igula sat beside her, cradling a copy of the "Ten Rules of the Swindler" in her hands, with a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, she asked, "Comfortable?"
"Comfortable," little Si rolled back and forth on the carpet: "Half of me is sunbathed, the other half isn't, half warm, half cool." Irina, come lie down too, stop reading."
"No thanks, I like—"
Before Igula could finish her refusal, she was dragged to the floor by little Si. The treehouse transformed with the roof opening wide; stars shifted, turning afternoon to deep night in an instant, with a Star Cluster twinkling brilliantly and the Galaxy shimmering softly, as the myriad of Star Radiance greeted them.
"I think you'll definitely like the starry sky," little Si said, lying next to Igula.
