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The sunrise is beautiful. I wake up at 6:00 every morning to watch as it happens at 6:07. Every morning the sun comes up at the same exact time. I guess it’s an anomaly, but I like it that way.

Every morning on the way to work I talk to my best friend, Ally.

“Today I looked in the mirror, and my under eye bags really surprised me.” Ally is always so critical of how she looks, and she always makes me feel anxious about my appearance too.

At a red light I pulled down the mirror of my car, and looked at my under eyes. Shockingly, there was no creasing.

“Ally, you’re not going to believe this but I don’t have a single line! I’m nearing fifty, and I still look 21!”

Ally begins to cackle. Offended, I hang up. I still got it, and she’s jealous. She calls me back up, and to gloat I pick up.

“Sandra, you are a card. You’ve been in a coma for 30 years!”

What? I let go of the wheel, and my feet don’t push the petals. The world spins, then fades to black.

The sunrise is beautiful.

New York
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