And there's this thing, this fever in the early morning, this urge. To want to do everything. Because the time is wearing out is running out is winding down. It is ending. Because the time is missing. To miss at the time (I know it's wrong, but that's what I mean). Then you said
«There's an untold light here in this early morning, let's leave please». I grabbed your hand. My hand was cold. Wet and cold.