Soul-itude

I like this time of night.

Nobody is awake. It's far too late on my side of the world, and it's a little too early for everybody else. I hear no voices, no footsteps. All I hear is the wind, and my fingers against the keys.

I sit up straight and my spine scolds me for slouching, voicing its displeasure with a half-dozen little pops.

The hours pass quickly when it's this late. Soon my world will be waking. The sun will peek up, warmly rousing the East. It'll pass over the land, casting its light onto sleeping bodies. More will wake, yawn, and stretch. Finally, finally the sun will find me. It will cross the water, traveling traveling traveling until it reaches me. It will creep up over the mountains, cast its light through the trees and into my windows. I'll admire the rays that cascade onto my floor, splay across my walls.

I will smile and shut my eyes.

I hope.