Behind the counter, I slouched on my stool in the sun and…

As the hours crept by, the afternoon sunlight bleached all the books on the shelves to pale, gilded versions of themselves and warmed the…

— Maggie Stiefvater

“He had cheekbones that sliced right through the thick, golden afternoon sunlight.”

— Sarah Gailey

the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood ...

— Stephen King

“The afternoon sunlight made the city look magical as it glittered through the plane trees of Gloucester Avenue, but Harry knew such beauty was…

— Claire Evans

“His skin radiates so much of the day's heat that touching him feels like wading into the lake, opening my hand, and catching one…

— Holly Schindler

“Five girls sat beside, and upon the branches of, the oldest apple tree in the orchard, its huge trunk making a fine seat and…

— Neil Gaiman

“The afternoon sunk into the tall grass growing on the roadside. The distant dome turned from coral to burnt umber, a final flash of…

— Megan Rich

“A book alighted, almost obediently, like a white pigeon, in his hands, wings fluttering. In the dim, wavering light, a page hung open and…

— Anonymous

“Twenty-seven years, Colin Hilliard thought, buttoning his suit as he strode out from under the cover of Balmoral’s carriage porch—the early afternoon sun shining…

— Stephen England

“before, has it?” Molly shook her head. “No. But I still want him home.” She smiled at the sight of her three children napping…

— Ann Shorey

You are my dream when I'm not sleeping, my shining star in the afternoon, my sun to guide my way in the middle of…

— Anonymous

But they never last, the golden days. And it can be sad, the sun in the afternoon, can't it? Yes, it can be sad,…

— Jean Rhys

“ Benvenuta a la Via dell’Amore,” he says, poking a bright pink lock with Ashlee + Jake written on it in white paint. “What…

— Kristin Rae

“There was no movement around the discoloured walls, and Lucy turned the Land Rover about in a slow crawl, the tires crunching on the…

— James Swallow

“Raw Living: Picking blackberries, beneath late afternoon sun; a sunset reminiscent of watermelon sangria, as the scent of honeysuckle accosts me and the ducks…

— Brandi L. Bates