This, to me, was heaven. Alone at four in the morning but not because I'd yet to go to bed--this was my morning. The rain had woken me up, tapping gently on the panes of my window. I'd always been a light sleeper.
Nobody was in the house today-- my roommates had all gone home for the long weekend, homesick after the first two months. I wasn't longing for home--on the contrary; this independence thrilled me. Where they complained and wore twice-dirty clothes, I delighted in cooking and cleaning and knowing that I was completely in charge. Any failure was all mine.
In the quiet and the dark, I switched on my computer and placed it on the desk. Even though it was four in the morning on Saturday there was no reason for me not to start a paper due Wednesday. This solitary morning inspired ambition.
Cereal, scavenged from the kitchen, served an early breakfast as I sat down to type. This was peaceful, sorting through research on causes of the Revolution with nothing to worry me and nobody to bother me.
I sighed. Who said there was anything lonely about being alone?
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