The Sun that Shone like Jumping Badgers A Short Story by Untitled writer Sharon Jolie looked at the spotty ruler in her hands and felt ambivalent. She walked over to the window and reflected on her urban surroundings. She had always loved cold Chicago with its pretty, prickly parks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel ambivalent. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Andy Torrance. Andy was a patient saint with beautiful fingers and greasy hands.