A crushed yellow sweet on the floor of the tube keeps attracting my attention. It’s bright – like an artificial sun. But without an orbit. No life forms bask in its glory or worship it. No planets revolve around it. Someone has abandoned it and someone else has trodden on it. It won’t be long now before the man with the little spade comes to collect it and throw it out without a moment’s thought. Thus will be the ignominious ending of the little yellow sun.