Along the bannister, my fingers brushing the rails, I gaze into the unlit study below. Soft, cushioned seats, shelf upon shelf of interesting books, invisible to me. I reach the spiral stairs and pause a moment. The hour is wrong; I feel it, but still, I must go.
Three times round completes the journey, and windows at every level. I stare out the first and see only darkness. Around I go. The next window, the horizon is a soft glow. One more orbit to complete, and here, at the last stop before I enter the den, I greet the sun.
Tale Told 