The night is thinning. The city below is quieter now, the streetlights beginning to dim as the first traces of dawn stretch across the horizon.
She remains by the window, now leaning slightly forward, hands resting gently on the sill. Her long hair moves softly in the morning breeze, and the soft glow of the monitor blends with the faint warmth of the approaching sunrise.
Her mind, still awake, drifts across memories and silent questions. Some are unresolved, some are comforting, like whispers of things yet to come. She breathes slowly, feeling the transition between night and day, the quiet before the world stirs.
It is in this moment she realizes: even when the world is silent, there is a rhythm inside her thoughts, a subtle pulse of life, of possibility.
When the world is quiet, the mind finds its own dawn.
