Another day, but not the dawn
Long days, though often daily, seemed rare in his mind. If you do what you love for work, it will only feel like work if you let it. Coat and scarf hung on their nightly hooks while he slipped into a pair of sweatpants he never let leave the house. Sometimes a car would pass the window, registering to the man as no more than a brief pulse of a light. His phone was long dead, so he left it to charge while he read a fantasy novel under the pale red light of a headlamp. After enough time and pages had passed, his eyelids folded under the weight of the thin blanket that covered him.
It was four thirty-eight AM when the man got up, then promptly drank a litre of water, stared out the large bay window for approximately half an hour, and went back to bed. Though odd to any outside party, it was commonplace within the four walls he rented. He found sleep, for any length greater than four hours or so, impossible. A good night of sleep always involved a short intermission to get up and go do things. Sometimes he'd continue to read whatever book was on his nightstand, sometimes he'd write about a dream that got interrupted, and sometimes he'd merely look out into the charcoal blue that collected in the sky late at night. This night was the latter, for no particular reason other than the sky was a particularly pretty shade of deep violet. It was, however, four forty-five when the power briefly went out, and the man saw the world plunged into darkness for one minute.
No great travesty befell him in his dreams, but he reawakened at six. With no obligations till well into the morning he had no intentions of leaving the bed, yet the sky blushed a brilliantly expectant grey and convinced him to leap from bed, grab his coat and scarf, and charge out with just enough time for bong toke before closing the door. His stride was hurried but leisurely as he spent an hour watching the downtown harbour front in the morning. Returning to his window, he sat down with a bowl of dry cereal and a notebook. The whole world could be seen from his seat, and he could watch it all slowly come to be.