Sunrise
sunrise
We don’t talk much when sunrise comes.
Instead, we congregate silently in the kitchen, nursing cups of coffee as if they were our lifeline. Some have left already — most for classes, one for an early morning jog. The rest sit silently around the table, the silence so complete and all-assuming that it sends shivers down my spine. We are spent. There are empty wine bottles strewn across the floor. As you knock one over, they all topple like glass dominos, spinning frantically across the tiled floor.
We don’t talk much when sunrise comes, but we do laugh.
Instead, we congregate silently in the kitchen, nursing cups of coffee as if they were our lifeline. Some have left already — most for classes, one for an early morning jog. The rest sit silently around the table, the silence so complete and all-assuming that it sends shivers down my spine. We are spent. There are empty wine bottles strewn across the floor. As you knock one over, they all topple like glass dominos, spinning frantically across the tiled floor.
We don’t talk much when sunrise comes, but we do laugh.