Morning

Shrill alarm. Snooze. Re-snooze. Shards of a dream—a memory—lingers. Muffled screams, tense muscles, bloodshot eyes. Shake it. A moment of truth, realized. Accept it. Turn head, look out the window—the sun is not quite awake. Perhaps it never will wake, at least not for today. Thunderous gray skies promised much needed release.