The soft breeze of a fresh new September morning courteously peered out the curtains of his bedroom, grazing his cheeks and inevitably his head. It tickled his skin as his chestnut brown locks moved along, laying over his eyes in an obvious outcome. He did, in a fraction of a second, ponder how a seemingly inanimate object such as a window could have suddenly come to life and itself open, but then he figured that the culprit would have been very alive indeed. 

Oh, he sure loved Sunday mornings.