She comes quick

Woke in the dark, wind tapping on my pane. Hello? 

The darkness– still drowsy– crawled over me and into my heart. 
It ate up the good and the bad together then slumped away, full. 

Morning answered my cry, tumbling, scrambling through the curtain. Late again. 
She saw me empty and knew I'd been robbed. So she pulled a needle and one of her golden hairs and began stitching.