It is perhaps 7:00, and you are probably still asleep, snuggled in a nest of blankets and pillows with perhaps an elbow or a foot leaking out where you twitched the covers over during a dream. I am not asleep, having been driven from my bed by nightmares of vitrification. I am terrified of losing my fingerprints, even in my dreams.
But what you are missing, here at 7:00, is this sky that's soft blues and light pinks and pearly greys spreading slowly out from the sunrise that is surely happening on the other side of the hill. The air here on my balcony smells nice and sweet, like being young. There are no birds chirping--this is not Snow White--but 7:00 feels like something good might happen today.
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