First light

We waited for first light on the roof. The city was quiet. A few windows were already lit - bakers, insomniacs, people with nowhere else to be.

You said something about the way the sky changes. Not the colors, but the texture. As if the dark were a fabric that was slowly being pulled back. I didn't answer. I was watching the horizon. There's a moment, just before the sun appears, when everything is possible. Then the day begins and the moment is gone.

I still get up early sometimes. Not to see the sunrise. To remember that moment. The one that doesn't last.