The fresh sun hangs low, washing quietly across the avenue. A silent steady flow is carrying away the stillness of the cool morning, but leaving it pristine and untouched in the filtering shadows. Calmly casting warmth onto the side of your face as you turn across the softening driveway, but not yet entering your jacket. The chill on your ankles reminds you that you are alive. Your hand against the warm metal pane and your fingers searching for the icy cold keys. Maneuvering a goose-bumped wrist, pushing up a wide yawn from a glowing belly of coffee.
Quit Vision 