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Morning MAG
A tanned hand reached out from under a light blue blanket and felt its way to the alarm clock. After a few miscalculated whacks, the buzzing stopped, and the hand, which belonged to Casey Amanda Adams, crept back under the covers.
The sound of running water filled the short-lived silence. Soon it was joined by the coffee percolator, clinking dishes, mumbled complaints, and shrieks of "What am I going to wear?"
Casey yawned and stretched in her private world. She smiled sleepily, knowing that while her brothers, sisters, and parents had to be out of the house by or before eight, she did not have to go anywhere. It was nice to be able to sleep late, even if she had forgotten to turn off her alarm the night before.
The creak of the closet door opening caught Casey's attention. "Do not touch the outfit in the plastic wrapping!"
"I'm not gonna," whined a voice from beyond Casey's blue world. "I just want to borrow your yellow belt."
When the jangling of belt buckles had stopped and the footsteps had faded, Casey rolled over and opened her window, then snuggled down in her sheets once more.
A comfortable breeze tiptoed into the room. Somewhere far away, doors slammed and a car roared to life. A horn honked twice, and a hurried farewell was tossed to the world.
The sound level in the household didn't diminish after Casey's three siblings left. Running footsteps up and down the hall sounded like sharp, staccato hoofbeats. Good-byes and last minute instructions were blown into Casey's room. Shouts, the rumble of a schoolbus, a door banging shut, and the noise of the bus starting once more filled the air, then silence. Complete, utter, lovely silence.
Casey sighed, turned over, and promptly fell asleep. n
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