The Author sat cross-legged at the pier with a notebook in her hands. The sun peeked over the housetops, and the Author turned her face toward the warming rays, letting them thaw the cold away from her cheeks this early morning.
Just an arm's length away from the Author, we find the Friend. His back leaned against the concrete wall separating the city from the open water. His eyes were closed, his breaths heavy. The Author smiled to herself, he's asleep. She looks out over the houses along the beach. A long line of apartment buildings next to offices, but right at the edge of the water, a row of small, red huts.
Just like he always does when it's time for a day at the pier, the Friend called the Author early in the morning, far before sunrise. He yelled "the pier" through the phone and then hung up again. The Author had with a sigh of annoyance looked at the time, placed her head beneath her pillow and tried to fall back asleep. This technique has never worked because the Friend always calls again five minutes later. The Author has never gotten out of bed after the first call.
When the Author arrived at the pier, her notebook was safe in her tote bag, and her thin scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and chin. As she climbed over the thick concrete wall, the Friend was already on the other side, waiting for her. When she put her feet down, the rocks on which she was standing decided that it was the perfect moment to become slippery. The Author lost her footing, causing her and the Friend to fall over each other in a pile of laughter.
After gathering themselves, they reached the spot on the rocks they call their own. Sitting down on a warm wool blanket, they'd swept another one around their shoulders.
And on that wool blanket, they sit. The Author with her notebook and the Friend with his head on her shoulder. The Author's pen flying over the paper as she struggled to put into words every part of the sunrise.
Though she was cold, and the Friend was sleeping beside her, the Author loves every second of being on the pier. These are the moments she feels fully present. The deep breaths of the Friend combined with the sounds of a city waking up making her aware of the world, somehow.
After a while, the Friend woke up. Cursing himself for falling asleep and missing the sunrise. The Author simply laughed, leaning her head on the Friends shoulder.
"Can I read what you wrote?" The Friend Looked hopeful, but the Author teasingly shut her notebook.
"If you hadn't fallen asleep, you already would know."
The Author smiled, and the Friend made an exaggerated, hurt face. They both laughed, and the Author handed her notebook to her Friend. Together they sat and enjoyed the sun before picking up their things and walking away.
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