He stood on the balcony, gazing out across the rooftops of the city towards the horizon, well beyond the walls, as light began to bleed into the night sky, turning it from a blanket of black to something closer to Navy Blue. The stars, pinpricks of silver in that navy fabric, were beginning to fade, making way for the great sphere of light that was the sun. It was his favorite time of the day, where the shadows were long and dark, the night sky just barely coming to life, the city around him still quiet in the depths of sleep. It was, he felt, the most honest time of the day. Those who worked in the light of day rested still, and most of those who plied their trades in the dark had retreated to bed. The birds had not yet risen from their slumber, the insects of the night falling quiet and leaving only those like him, those who woke before the light of day.
