46 of 365

She cried in the morning. Her mind felt clearer at dawn than any other time of day, thus this is when she grieved. It was a rational grief. A healing grief. Much to the contrary were her attempts to mourn at dusk. The dishes that sailed across the room, shattering to pieces upon impact. The flowers she shoved in the face of the young delivery man, nearly suffocating him. No, night was not a time to mourn. Mourning in the morning was the only way.