The world around me is silent, and still, as it is every time the clock strikes five in the morning. All the color has been drained away by the lack of light. Everything is gray, the only distinction between objects made by the different shades of gray they display in the barely distinguishable light. I sit silently in bed, my head resting back against the wall behind me. Outside, I can hear the mockingbird I have come to recognize singing his heart out. A thought springs to mind, and it makes my lips twitch upward in a smile.

Why does a mockingbird sing at such odd times of the day? Is it because he's stayed up too late and has gone slightly crazy? Or did he just wake up, ready to tell the world that he's starting a new day?

I'm inclined to think that it's the latter.

- Aimee