The idea was sort of a twist on a nine-word poetry challenge...take the following nine words and incorporate them into a drabble. The nine words were: Rose, Risk, Star, Shift, Trunk, Title, Quiet, Quilt, Limit. I cheated and put "title" in the title, as I was having a hell of a time trying to work it into the story, and it saved me the agony of trying to title it. Title: Untitled Author: Moi, foureyedsnail Rating: G Main Character(s) and/or pairings: Any you like; my original thought was Colin and Ryan Summary: It is always the best time of the day, the morning. It is always the best time of the day, the morning. Doubtless he would laugh at me for that. Sometimes I try to explain to him what’s so special about the dawn… the pale fingers of rose that steal out into the world, the dying light of the last morning star…. He rolls his eyes at my private silliness laid out for him to see, but he takes me in his arms nonetheless, and concedes with an embrace what he won’t with words—that he’s a sentimental old fool, too. I think of this as I lie in bed in the wee hours of the morning, unable to sleep but unwilling to leave the warmth and quiet that wraps around me like a quilt. At length, my patience reaches its limit, and I rise…softly, lightly. He shifts slightly in sleep, and I stand motionless, watching him curl in my absence, groping for something. His trunk bends like a willow sapling, still searching in vain for me. I creep behind him and stroke his arm lightly, fondly. He ceases in his movements immediately, still now, content. A smile brushes my face as I stare down at his familiar curls, his face now peaceful in sleep. After a moment’s pause, I cross to the window to greet the morning sun. He always grouses when I throw open the blinds and the shutters and stick my head and shoulders into the crisp morning air. It lets the cold in, he says. I need a breath of fresh air in the morning, I say. This is Los Angeles, he says, care to rephrase that? I just smile. Once I’ve drunk my fill of the dawn, I always return to our warm bed, if only for an instant. In that moment I allow myself to revel in my good luck. It was a risk, a huge one, I reflect as I lie with my lover’s arms surrounding me while I drift off again, but it brought me more than I ever imagined. I found happiness, security, love… I found home. I do love the mornings.