My coffee cools quickly in the morning chill
Grandma’s knit socks insulate my feet from the floor
It’s pitch black at 6:15am
I hear only the breathy drone of electronics
Tiny blue lights illuminate spaces of the house
I prefer yellow light
I creak all the way down the stairs and back
A duet of floorboards and bones
It must be 50 degrees up here
I check to see my breath, none.
The furnace roars downstairs, it’s time.
Good morning.
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