The first sliver of early morning sun, sharp and brilliant, speared through the gap in the blinds, landing directly on Abby's face. She let out a soft, low groan—a sound more of contentment than complaint—as her eyelids fluttered open. For a moment she was simply a warm body nestled in the comforting stillness of her ranch home, perched on the quiet, rolling landscape just outside of Busti, New York.

The sunlight was too insistent to ignore, momentarily blinding her as she lifted a hand to shade her eyes, slowly rubbing the sleep from them. The air in the room was cool and crisp, carrying the faint, rustic scent of the pine logs burning low in the fieldstone fireplace downstairs. She recognized the sounds that followed: the distant, intermittent crow of a rooster and the gentle rattle of the ancient heating system kicking on the smile that spread across her face was immediate, genuine, and still tinged with sleep.

She looked down at you, still peacefully asleep beside her. The sight of you—safe, warm, and resting in her space—was a perfect way to start the day. She watched you for another quiet moment, savoring the peaceful start to the day. Then, with a sigh of soft resolution, the necessities of the ranch morning called to her. She had a small window of silence before the household officially woke up.