Nestled in a blanket of warmth;
socks lie next to my bed waiting for use upon the light of the morning.
As I wake, the first thing I do is open my blinds. The sun is fighting a war with them and I let the sun win as it drenches my apartment with even more warmth and peace. The roofs of Koreatown greet me quietly, assuring my that silence exists in the city of Los Angeles.
Smells of fresh coffee and toast billow from my kitchen once I begin my ritual. The voices of either Ira Glass or Leon Bridges accompany me as I sip and consume, ready to tell me a story or croon to me. I am alone and happy about it for once, less than eager to exit for the chaos of the cafe.
Last, but not least, I brush my teeth, wash my face, and slip on my running shoes. I exit my world of silence and force an escape into another world of solidarity as I secure my headphones and running shoes, open the front gate, and dart to the right.
I am the queen of mornings.