A/N: Earlier this year, I bought a book titled "Q&A a day for writers", which basically has one prompt per day. The prompt that inspired this particular drabble was the following:
"Continue this story: 'For once the fulgent sun was not a welcome sight...'"
Happiness
For once the fulgent sun was not a welcome sight but a mockery, a reminder that though he had failed, though he was at his lowest, life carried on, and people were happy.
Happiness — an emotion he was unable to feel anymore. One he hadn't felt since Élise's death. Nothing held any joy, and the fulgent sun that would once have brightened his fay and the whole of Paris was now but a mere case for contempt. Contempt at the world, at the universe, at God himself, for not caring about his lost love.
Arno Victor Dorian hated the sun, but most of all, he hated himself.