Mornings were the worst.
As she saw the sunlight penetrate through the glass windows, it seemed to her as though it painted the room dark - darker than it already was.
Cathy wiped her tear streaked face and looked at the morning sun - it shone in all its glory.
She looked around the room she had spent the past 20 years of her life in as though she was seeing it for the first time.
Maybe everything was alien to her that morning.
Maybe it was the sun.
His face is all she could think about as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
His voice is all she heard as she lay wide awake pining for slumber.
Did it have to be so difficult ?
She had no answers.
The waves splashed against the shores. The Earth moved around the sun.
The wind blew against her pale cheeks and she knew change was near.
Under the pale blue sky, she waited.
The red walls seemed to be closing in and she knew she wasn't ready for another morning.
But, that night Cathy dreamt of him. She saw the smile on his face which had long disappeared.
Through the wilderness, she heard his voice that still left her enthralled - and she smiled.
A silent smile.
Determined, foolish and zealous.
Another morning arrived and with it arrived the familiar pangs of anguish.
The rays of the sun left the dungeon cold still and she looked at her reflection.
The tears were gone. The smile was gone.
Yes, mornings were the worst.
(Dedicated to the Porcupine who gave me the bhalo buddhi of doing a certain something)