Fabric Wrinkles. Wrinkles everywhere. My eyes, awakened by the sunlight penetrating the sheet that has engulfed me during the night, land on the irregular patterns spattered on it. Should it already be so bright outside? Why hasn’t the alarm rung? I pull up the blanket even more in my futile attempt at blocking the light. But after a few seconds of breathing that borders on meditation and annoyance, I escape the comfort of my bed and reach for the phone. It’s 7:07. Of course, it’s summer. The day starts early. I miss the wintertime, when the sun sets at 4:30…