I turned back to the window beside me, resting my forehead against the glass. I’d been watching and waiting since the earliest signs of dawn. But though the Sun’s first rays had come straight into the Second Bedroom through the gap between the buildings, I hadn’t for a second mistaken this for his special nourishment. I’d remembered of course that I should be grateful as always, but hadn’t been able to keep the disappointment from my mind.
― Kazuo Ishiguro, Klara and the Sun