One again, her hand searched for that annoying alarm button. If she could just roll over, sleep away another day with no promise.
Her bare feet curled up as they hit the cold hardwood floor, on this winter morning. She grabbed her fluffy pink robe, slipped her feet into worn slippers and shuffled aimlessly to the kitchen.
“Coffee,” she thought. “Maybe the steam of the coffee will brighten the day.”
She noticed the pattern of frost on the window as the coffee brewed. A drop of water slid down the window where the coffee pot warmed the etching of frost.
Nothing had changed, not a damned thing, Her hope melted, just like the frost on her window