In spite of the omens to the contrary in spite of the noises conspiring to drive me insane in spite of the terror eating at me like vicious acid the night is over the day has come. In this time, in another time horses clomp tiled streets delivering milk to the households rising fresh from sleep newspapers slap against the porch birds warmed to song announce the day and put to rest the lingering shadows of night. I do not rise to skim the thick cream from the top of the bottle, read news among cornflakes, dogs, and children scrubbed and eager. I am grateful merely that the light has come, that others are awake at last, that I can retire as guardian of the night to walk with ordinary people and drown my thoughts in the noise of my small actions.
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Warren Wedin email@example.com