She warned me, before she dozed off.

Don't expect much in the A.M., I'm a bit of a mess before the washroom and some tea.

Then she curled up into the crook of my arm, doing an excellent cat imitation. I woke at the first sound of the morning: trash trucks on the street. Grey clouds obscuring the crimson sunrise. I rolled over slowly to see if the beeping and slamming had woken her. Thankfully, it had not.

There, half covered in quilts and sheets was this little sprite. Short dark hair, spare strands across her brow. Impossibly small eyelashes waving, as if blown by a minature fan. And her skin, the colour of china plates, pale and luminous. Glazed with sleep and scented with last evening's distant lilacs.

The problem was not only keeping my fingers off her shoulder - it was trying not to laugh out loud. I covered my mouth with one hand and pondered how anyone could consider this watercolor a mess.

Hey...what's silly?

"Oh, just watching the mess of you."

A thrown pillow was both her answer and an invitation.

thanks to Mitzi for both the title and the inspiration

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