The darkness is already draining from the sky outside as he stops to look out the window on the way to the bathroom.
Dark blue directly above, gently fading to a lighter blue over the rooftops across the back yard.
Someone not visible below the trees, someone quite possibly with a high blood/alcohol content, is singing (not too badly): thank you for the love you brought my way you gave to me your all and all and now I feel ten feet tall…and then a passing ambulance siren drowns him out. An airplane rumbles far overhead.
In a window across the street a woman sways her body unselfconsciously, perhaps listening to a radio, as she pours coffee into a cup. She’s dressed in some kind of service uniform, probably preparing to head out to work.
The birds’ chatter makes it official—a new day in New York City.
He glances over at the digital numbers on the clock: 6:52.
Later in the day, looking up a weather report on his computer, he’ll recognize the same number listed — it was the exact moment of sunrise.
© AleXander Hirka 2019. All Rights Reserved.
Heliocentric Redux 2019
Heliocentric. October 2018 writing project — one short sketch a day, under 250 words each, circling like a planet around The Sun.