The night was orange. It was orange in the way it often did after a heavy rain, and one which had consumed the day.

He shuffled up to me, holding a corn cup in each hand.

The crisp sunlight filtered through the curtain laces and greeted Johnny’s face. He stirred for a moment, turning over to his side in lethargy before opening his eyes and letting out a long sigh. Wiping away the sleep from his eyes, Johnny shuffled unsteadily to the basin and gargled his mouth under the tap. He then proceeded to the silver-chromed coffeemaker and did his usual brew. Before long, Johnny was nursing a warm mug of coffee at the soft mahogany table by the bed, feeling all fresh and radiant.