for Morning is made of mysteries and uncertainties the hopes of beginnings the risks of unknowns the potential for greatness or failure
~ -:- ~
The sunlight of a newborn giorno peeps through the window behind her and coaxes its way past the curtains, falling across a tavolo covered in sprawling wires and metal parts to touch golden strands of hair. A girl just shy of 18 years stands bent over her work with lips pursed, oblivious to everything but the stubborn bolt she's attempting to wrestle into its socket.
The phone rings from a few feet away, and she automatically reaches for it and tucks it under...