The room is empty and silent, early in the morning.  Outside, there
is sunlight, and it can be seen through the doorway, but it does not
penetrate the gloom within.  A single pale ray of sunshine enters
through the window, illuminating floating dust, the grayness of the
still air.
  I can hear a ghostly whine as the cooling system in the basement
slowly wakes up, haunting.  If I try hard, I can make out the voices
of people outside; tired people, just out of bed, about to go to
class.  They do not disturb the silent air in the room.
  A lone mosquito buzzes around, trying to find a way out, but it
cannot.  There is no escape, the room is closed, all routes are
blocked.  The mosquito locates the window, the light, however dim,
having drawn it.  It hits against the silent glass, again and again.