Foreign Morning

As he first opened his eyes, he was confused. As much as he tried - he couldn't remember going to bed the night before. The best he could do was pull out certain moments - throwing on sweatpants, brushing his teeth. Everything else was a blur.

Above him was a window he wasn't familiar with and on the other side of the glass was a swath of sky he had never seen. A radiant blue that stretched out in all directions - scattered with the occasional morning clouds that were in the process of dispersing under the rising sun. Even the birds that stood perched along the low-hanging power lines appeared different to him. How they cooed, the patterns of their feathers, their colorings.

And that wasn't all. As he continued to lay there in bed, the rest of the world began to seep into the room. He could hear the streets outside of the building already bustling with life. The occasional car driving by, hooves clacking against the cobblestones, children laughing and running on their way to school - merchants' voices echoing down the winding alleyways. It didn't take long for his nose to notice the aromatics of the city either. The spices that lingered. Different curries, cinnamon, cumin, paprika. All combining in a cornucopia within his nostrils. Pure bliss.

It wasn't until he heard the mixture of languages that he remembered where he was. He seemed to hear it all, arabic, spanish, french, berber. It was tough trying to distinguish one from another, especially when they were often used interchangeably. As much as his mind tried to pick them apart, it was too much work too fast and he quickly became lulled into a trance by the cadence and rhythm of the voices on the other side of the window.

As he continued to lay there, body slowing warming under the beams of light that were sneaking in through the window, he was startled by the slight groan next to him. He had completely forgotten he was not alone. She laid to his left, tightly wrapped in the hand sewn blankets, pulled just above her eyes, hair tussled about in clumps, falling in all directions over the bed. He couldn't help but smile in her attempt to stay warm in the night, He could only imagine how cold her feet were further down the bed, curled around one another - absolutely endearing.

Yet there was an issue at hand. How to wake her up. Outside the city was calling him, goading him to throw the warm layer of blankets off and venture out into the streets. To explore. Experience. Soak it all in. But the more he laid there, the less and less he wanted to disturb her. He could hear her breathing, deep and slow. That perfect state. Lost somewhere within a dream. So he nuzzled up and wrapped an arm around her ever so gently. Their adventures could wait a little longer.

After all - this moment was close to perfect.