No matter how far away you stand your smoke still showers my face. I breathe in your stench as I sit on a cold metal bench made purposely uncomfortable out of iron slats. Homeless proof. Nothing a thick blanket couldn’t remedy. A sliver of the moon still hangs visible above me. The sun is rising in a thin soft yellow band across the horizon. It melts into the dark blue sky and sheds its light. The silhouettes of pedestrians move across the bridge. Old people push walkers, bicyclists pedal their bikes, mommies and daddies and little kids in a hurry. The half-awake masses stumbling to the starting gate.