The Secret to 6 a.m. Lies in the Night
An alarm rings in a pitch-dark room, the blinds swish open, and a golden “06:00” forms on the wall. In bed, a lump under the covers is still fast asleep. “64%” rolls up and a bird's shadow passes by, then at “There's just one secret,” a single band of light remains before it clacks shut. The wall opens again on a moonlit night, “22:30,” and the lump flops down onto the empty bed. As the clock rolls to 06:00, the covers are flung back.