There’s something uniquely special about being one of the firsts to arrive at work in the morning. It’s amazing how the same place you left last night cursing it for the amount of pandemonium that dwells within every inch - in and across – the its tiny cubicles transforms into a peaceful space sans any signs of upheaval. It looks like a battleground after the war has ended. The temperature is low enough to make you shiver a little bit. The array of lights makes a vague pattern on the ceiling. The printers buzz as they warm up for the day. The faces of the early birds, spookily lit by the incandescent glow of their screens, are occasionally visible behind the stunted walls of their cubicles. While the faces remain unperturbed their fingers hit the keys on the keyboard almost at the rate of the spoken word. A symphony of mouse clicks and key strokes fills up the air. The chairs that otherwise have heavy bottoms glued to them are plump with air breathed in after a few relieved Pascals. The quiescent telephones and the soft murmur of early personal calls on cell phones paint an atypical picture in the room. The world hasn’t woken up from its slumber as yet. The number of unread mail for the day confirms the hypothesis. It’s tough placing a finger on what makes these wee hours of the 12 hour work clock so blissful? Is it that one needs just a few minutes by herself to appreciate the beauty in little things or is it that sometimes you find joy in the most unexpected things that fall out of the routine?