The sparrow hopped into the open window on the fifth floor. It was morning, and raining, and warm. In the bed on the left of the sill she lay, evidently free of obligation for this particular day, as it was well after 7, and if she had needed to go to work she would have been perched in front of the mirror, constructing her day face. “But maybe,” thought the sparrow, “her alarm didn’t work? Or perhaps she has forgotten to get up?” He decided to play it safe, at the risk of upsetting her slumber and throwing off her day. “Wake up!” he whispered, cautiously. She didn’t stir. He cleared his throat, and sang a little louder, “Wake up!” She shifted slightly under the covers, and muttered, “not today, little sparrow.”