"What's that?" he asked, when I stood beside him again. "Halos," I said with a grin. "For heavenly creatures like us." "That might be a stretch."

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The sun's nearly level with the horizon, right behind his head, making this weird halo effect around his face—as if! I'm surprised he doesn't smell like brimstone. He probably has a red pitchfork and hides horns under his hair.

— Karen Marie Moning