The Sunday Whirl

The daily sheen of streaming sun in my bedroom window is a sharp reminder that morning has come. By other’s rights, I should try to cover the blinds with a curtain of some kind that would keep me snoozing a while longer when the line of brightness seeks to wake me. But like a moth to a flame, there is nothing but streaks of sun I prefer. I feel free without the sounding fray of an alarm.

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