Assorted dark mornings

1. At my new apartment, to get to work I must first walk down a hill right into Orion's arms. Then I turn right and wait in the glare of passing headlights for a bus that is eerily full for this early. Winter is on its way. There is only one small crack of morning light floating behind me. I am walking away from it.

2. The bus keeps its lights dim, so I can't read. Our faces all blue and quiet.

3. At my last apartment, the bus came to a corner where only joggers and dogs broke the morning stillness. I was often the only one on it.

3. But everywhere, crickets.

4. I have a roommate for the first time in 5 years. A sleeping roommate means you cannot play the Smiths at full volume while you decide what to wear at 4:30 a.m. Reheating coffee, I open the microwave before it can beep. I practice walking softly and hope the neighbors downstairs are not glaring up at me. One of the cats follows me into the bathroom. I forget to brush my teeth.