The way sunlight hits the floor at 5:30 a.m.

It’s just past dawn, and the kitchen’s empty except for the coffee machine humming like it’s trying to remember what it’s supposed to do. The light comes in straight and sharp across the tiles—no softening, no delay—and I keep thinking about how kids in my class would never notice this. They’re always rushing toward something, even when they don’t know where they’re going. I used to be like that too. Now I just stand here, watching the edge of the sun crawl over the counter like it’s making up its mind.