lovely, so bare of people

the light at a quarter to five, the darkness of the night receeding. The yard outside is a crepescular blue, a dark space in pale light. The cat is calling from outside the bedroom door. Open the door, let her in. She makes a grunting sound and rubs her back against the legs. A request for attention.

Turn off the alarm that has not sounded yet, it is on the mobile telephone.
Go to the bathroom, take a towel from the cupboard on the way.
Go for a piss, take a warm shower, dry using the fresh towel, and return to the bedroom.
Select clothes from the wardrobe, and put them on.
Sit down to put on the shoes, shoo the cat away.
She comes back and jumps up onto the white clad knees.

Stroke her back twice, then she rushes off again.
Dat scatty cat.

Then, to the kitchen. Look through the glass door, there are young men lying about on the floor. Schoolboys after the sons party. They had been playing on computers for half the night.

Make an early morning cup of coffee.

Sit down and drink it.

And leave the house at a quarter to six, the start of a day at work.
The streets to the alley where the little black car is parked are lovely, so bare of people.