May 10th 8:45 am

She lays there encased in the flowing black & white, floral-print cocoon. Her breathing rhythmic. Hair covers her face - one leg is bent at the knee, the other fully extended - one arm is lost under the pillow, the other reaches for something unknown. Airy sunshine spills through the blinds covering her in soft light. Without even having to think - as if by blind instinct alone - she has sensed my absence and in a just a few slight unnoticed movements has sprawled onto my side of the bed. I ponder this instinct knowing that I do the same when the roles are reversed. The grass is always greener. . .

I enter with a plate: two eggs golden centers. . . then white. . . then light brown. The nooks and crannies of the English muffin filled with yellow butter and red bubbly jam. The smell of bacon is somehow even better than the taste (which alone is always something to write home about). And Freshly-poured orange juice.

"Good Morning," I understate.