She runs beside a different shade of orange each morning. The sun rises to the beat of her feet shaking up the rough uneven bitumen, loose stones roll to the side and find asylum amongst the sandy grass.

No two mornings look the same, and she wonders, in the time of day when she has the opportunity to be the only person occupying her mind if it is at all possible that there could be enough shades of orange for each day of the year. Perhaps, there are as many shades of orange burning up a sunrise and beautifying the morning sky, as there might be days on this earth.

She breathed in deep and smiled at a never-ending reel of sunrises that would continue long after she was gone.

Today, she had chosen this one to be her very own.

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