You wake up one day and realize you are a morning person.
The dandelion’s verve for life and steadfast brightness year over year, despite all protestations that it is indeed a weed, makes it your new favorite flower.
Raw tomato and spinach with eggs lukewarm was just the breakfast menu item you were searching for.
A man tall and completed blows vape smoke into the train platform’s gray mist and now the bad boys just seem silly.
You spend a hour watching the pas de deux of gnats and pollen dancing overhead in a halo for a sun that keeps changing its clothes behind a cloud and all you want to listen to is a song formed in the throat of a piano. Only a piano.
A TV has just turned on in the other room, though silent, and you sense it.
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