“When I tell you that you are the sun to me, I don’t mean the sun in mid-July, when everything feels warm and you have to squint your eyes. I mean the sun in the dead of winter, when I haven’t seen the clouds part in weeks, when I’ve felt cold for so long that I can’t recall how it feels to be warm. Suddenly, you arrive from behind my overcast sky and remind me what it is to feel light. So when I say that you are the sun to me, I don’t mean to sound cliché — it’s just that before you, my skies were always gray.”