The Lost Boys are groggy and blurry-eyed, woken up by their over enthusiastic housemate, ever so hopeful for an early run to the doughnut shop for a morning sweet fix. The smell of coffee fills the air--cups of wake-me-ups prepared with pumpkin spice, the flavors of autumn.

Wrapped up in thick sweaters and scarves (with the exception of L who decided to journey in his footed pajamas), we trekked single file out the door and were immediately greeted by Winter, whispering cold air. Complaints and grumblings break the silence of five thirty am. The street lights illuminate the dense fog that seems to linger only at our end of the apartment complex. Trees rustle quietly and darkness grows. The roads are empty of the usual bustle of humanity, of technology.

It's a short walk and we reach the shop fairly quickly. The display case is lined with trays of sweets fresh from the oven, glazed donuts winking beneath the glass--the breakfast of gods! Ok, well maybe not, but the crullers are pretty amazing.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a crazy idea after all," someone relented.