Mm...ok

He had no idea why she would get up so early every morning. And their weekly trip to Malibu was yet another puzzle to him (she hardly even got in the water!). What he didn't know was that the most beautiful time in the world was between six and seven in the morning. The reason why no one really knew this was because not very many people happen to be awake at that time, and if they are they don't stop to appreciate it. She would get up so early to come to the beach, any beach as long as there weren't too many people (like the joggers). There was this one particular spot where she would lay her mat, sit down, and stare at the ocean. And sometime between six and seven, she never knew exactly when, the sun would make its way over the cliff and take its place in the sky looking down at the beach. The waves would so gracefully roll in and then ease their way onto the shore with their violently gentle nature. And she'd just sit there, in the quiet with her soy caramel machiatto in one hand, listening only to the sound of the ocean, warmed by the sun rising on her back. As trite as it sounds it was blissfully magical. "Nothing short of amazing," she would repeat over and over in her head. She loved it here. And even if it was her alone who loved it, and no one, not even he could share this with her, she never felt lonely when she was there surrounded by the ocean. It was all hers to greedily enjoy, and this was the best part about it she thought.