there's a specific hour in the morning — just before sunrise, when the air's cold enough to see your breath and the coffee hasn't kicked in yet — where everything feels like it's waiting. like the woods are holding their breath too. i drink my coffee standing on the porch, wearing a beanie over bedhead, and for about ten minutes i'm not 'the reliable one' or 'the person who fixes things.' i'm just someone watching the sky get lighter.
