Six Thirty A.M.

Walking through the old suburbs just outside of downtown. The oldest buildings in the valley, trees that have been here as long as there have been people here.

Everything is beautiful. Light gathers and streams. Shallow pools of light waver in the little alcove between two buildings. A small green LED keeps watch over a parking lot, staring out from its perch near the ceiling. Through the windows of houses I've passed dozens of times I see early morning living rooms with dim lights. Bright kitchens where people are quietly making breakfast. Lamps redefining shadows, shining up through trees.

For a few moments I realize why I like going to work.