I wake up in the dim pre-dawn hours; pad down a chilly hallway to the bathroom.
It's quiet, the house breathes with a dozen odd dreams, silent. I sit with my bottom on the heater vent, hugging my knees and watching the huge window at the end of the hallway.

I'm waiting for the morning, Daddy.

He scoops me up, (He always scooped me up without listening) and carries me back to bed, tucks me in. I snuggle in, warm momentarily until I realize I've been thwarted. How will I see the new day if the window near my bed looks at a patch of mud?

The heating grate imprints itself through my thin pajama bottoms, I lean my head against the wall. I will not give in this time, I will make no sounds, I will watch the morning sneak in and see if I don't.

The square of blackness begins to pale, night washing away in blurry outlines. The wallpaper's pattern emerges in bluish light, my head drops against the wall.

I was waiting for the morning, Daddy, and this time I saw it.

He tucks me back into bed, sleepy and content.

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