Dawn Her hair is a mess. Her make-up is smeared. Lying there, dressed only in a bed sheet, her breath comes noisy and shallow as she sleeps off the night. The cold pre-dawn does not flatter her. But I know better. Nothing looks the way it should after darkness has set in. Behind her, in the window, the sky turns pink, then red and the sun finally begins to rise. The light traces her curves - hips, waist, shoulder, cheek. It catches in the strands of her hair, turning the tangles into a delicate aura of gold. She sighs, soft and lovely. Liquid doe eyes look up and smile at me. Perfection in a moment, in a look. I take that look and memorize it, study it, store it away like a tiny ember so that it will sustain me. Her light will last me through the day, the night, the stress. A thousand hours of failures and flaws. Alone. Until the dawn.