This is a picture I did not take of a familiar morning, a teenage boy sprawled on the “love seat” side of the sectional, enveloped between two feather pillows hugging his neck and head with the tan, fluffy comforter overtop his body, legs hanging from the end of the cushion beginning at his calves, resting on the left side of his face, mouth agape, so calm, the couch pillows consuming his expression, if he were to move any further, a heap of a red, thin, hand-made blanket opposite the brown pillow, shielding a cow- print pit bull from the cool air, the stove fan humming as it does all night, the only light shining through seams of the curtains, and main screen of Black Ops II on the television, emanates to reveal a sheet of candy wrappers coating the available space on the wooden coffee table which holds the t.v.,  brown space heater between the black leather ottoman, empty, half-empty, and  full Poland Spring water bottles consume the surface of the heater, neighboring, there are square couch pillows, his book bag, a basket of candy, a red-see-through Xbox paddle connected to a broken microphone headset, socks kicked off during the night, a cell phone charger with electrical tape wrapped around the middle, and a teal-blue lamp with a zebra shade scatter the concrete, tan, carpeted floor, as the sound of a deadbolt being unlocked clicks, a spotted ear rises, the friction of the rubber beneath the white door slides against the white tiles; a new morning sun radiates its light as I open the door, encircling the room with a new-found brightness, I look back at a picture I see every day and shut the door.