Monday mornings arrive like unwelcome ailments, sneaking up your poorly sleeping body and announcing themselves into your half-conscious mind. You know it is a day of news, you know it's a day of cold temperatures and putting your shoulder to the wheel, you know it is all kinds of things while your brain muddles about in a hung over disappointment. You know there was a time when you felt joy, and curiosity, and excitement, when you wanted nothing more than to taste what the day had in store and waited impatiently for the next kiss, but that seems like a long time ago now. New York was so young then.
Perhaps, so were you.
You drag your enormous mug of coffee to the desk. Take a moment, as you do every day, to look around the room and let gratitude overwhelm you. Home is something you work for, but when it comes, it seems the easiest thing in the world.
Perhaps, so is love.
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