3 March: The Hour I Woke Up Early

3 March, cloudy

I got up an hour earlier than usual today. It wasn’t quite light; a street-cleaning truck passed outside, and the corridor was very quiet.

I didn’t use that hour for anything big: boiled water, washed my face, finished the few pages I had left from yesterday. But the whole day felt different — as if it started with me leading it rather than being pushed along.

Time isn’t squeezed out, it’s woken up. The two extra hours you borrow from the night have to be paid back the next day; the hour you win in the morning is yours.

The first hour of the morning is the only hour that belongs entirely to you.

Tomorrow, again.