I stretch in the dark, extending each finger, each toe. I watch the light bleeding in through the edge of the curtains, listening as a train rolls by in the distance. I begin to think of my day. Coffee, food, work, eating enough fruits and vegetables.
I pull on socks, shoes, a jacket. Stretch again before going outside. It's early and quiet; only dogs and joggers pass. A winter bird dances in a tree above me. I try to remember my dream, but it breaks apart like smoke. I don't remember what woke me. I don't remember the feeling. The world is new, and getting brighter.