728. Outtake #10 Morning Light

When the night was over and Rog and Yul, Von too, had returned to their rooms, she sat next to him, head on his shoulder watching the kaleidoscope of dawn, of mauve to pink to the fuzzy primrose yearning of day wheeling forth its light. His arm was around her shoulder and her hands in his lap and between them in the early morning, a warmth of wool held tight, of cheek on chest and the gentle beat felt of ear as much as heard.

She twirled circles on his thigh and his sighs were as rings in a pond, expanding toward shore, toward her, of her. Glasses were heard as cafe doors opened to brooms sweeping cobble clean, of placards placed by aprons still white of the day.