I woke up at 4 that morning,

more specifically 3:46 but I like to round up,

makes me feel more awake that way.

I grabbed a book from my bedside,

read words of love

of death

of trying again

of mystery

of the mysteries of love

and trying again at love.

But also death, and dying.

Eventually I heard the light click on downstairs

and the creaking of shuffled sleepy steps

so I went hushed down the carpet staircase and didn’t say a word

as I lifted the kettle and felt it almost dry

and scarcely heated from two hours earlier. I preferred tea

because coffee was too strong in the mornings.

After that I left

to come back later

when the water was hot

and not getting any

hotter.

I looked down at my mug

and saw it stained with

a past warmth

which was now

a hollow

fireball sunk at the bottom

of the cup.

Upstairs I went back

to reading those

big mysterious

words of love

death

and dying.

We were still figuring it all out.

From the corner of my eye then

I noticed the sun creeping out on one corner of the world

and disappearing from another.