My perfect morning would be waking naturally to the warmth of the sun, steaming through the window into a corner of the room. A tiger like raw with a simultaneous stretch of the arms and legs under the crisp white sheets, the smell of freshly made coffee rising from the kitchen.

Turning sideways to my feet, toes spread individually apart on the wooden floor. I rise slowly to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. The sun follows me wherever I go. Splashing icy water, I catch my reflection, a smile smugly crosses my face as I realise the day is my own.

I shower with my mind wondering from this, to that, with no real place to be. No purpose, no meaning, just bright images and sounds rattling around my brain. Towelled dry, in the fluffiest and whitest of clouds, I reach for a fresh pair of jeans, ever so slightly tighter than normal, but I notice. A white t-shirt slips over my head as I inhale a breath of lightly flowered fabric softener. No thought for a jumper today, today is perfect…

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