6 a.m. chris kornacki silence. except for a soft crackling sound from the end of my cigarette whenever i take a puff. i'm waiting for the city to resurrect itself-cars honking horns, dogs barking in alleys, birds chirping in trees, cell phones ringing-then i'll get up, close the open window, draw down the blinds, shut off the lights, pull back the blanket on the bed, and crawl under it back into silence.