Desperately she clings to it,eyes clenched shut, her blankets a tightly spun cocoon. It's dark outside, too early to be believed. Her every sense is being assaulted, and she pleads with them to try and return to a peaceful slumber; or, at the least, to let her return to hers. Wasn't she just in the midst of a dream? Or is this it, this forced birth into another day? One wants to build, and the other wants to play kitchen. Desperately she clung, but this morning, it wasn't enough.