The sky turned gray first. The ensuing riot of red, pink, purple, and yellow seemed like a bold thing, but it didn’t dare to touch the blue-black of the night. It waited at the horizon, toes stopped at the threshold, until gentle gray had nudged the darkness to the opposite side of the sky.
Leaning back from her desk, Ovie smiled slowly at the gray’s silent tenacity. She had worked through the night again, without really meaning to, though she was happy enough with the feeling of accomplishment that rested quietly behind the hum of her tired mind. She was too drained to appreciate the bright colors, and the sunlight streaming in behind them was waking her up more than she would like without giving her any fresh energy. She had been sitting too long, and she didn’t know a stretch that could soothe her more than the thought of curling up around her pillow. It was morning, and she didn’t want it quite yet.
But she understood the gray. She recognized that unintimidating, unyielding way to push.