Eli

Eli didn’t mind the quiet. He preferred it, actually—especially in the early hours when the city hadn’t quite woken up. The street below their apartment still shimmered with the last traces of rain, and from his window, the CN Tower cut a quiet silhouette against the soft grey sky.

He sipped his coffee—black, no sugar—and watched a sparrow hop across the balcony railing. No rush. No noise. Just the slow rhythm of a Toronto morning.