Sculptures - Larry Stylinson

Four

Mornings had always been one of the things Harry dreaded most. The act of waking up felt like an uphill battle every single time. The sun streamed through the curtains, its bright rays piercing the comfortable cocoon of sleep that enveloped him, demanding he rise and face the day.

But lately, mornings had become particularly grueling. Each day seemed to begin with an overwhelming weight pressing down on him, a feeling that sapped his motivation before he even opened his eyes. There was a constant sense of exhaustion that clung to him like a shadow, leaving him weary and drained.

Even the promise of a new day felt muted, and getting out of bed was often a struggle against the relentless tide of fatigue.

Not today, though.

Today felt different.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry woke up feeling well-rested. The heaviness that usually clouded his mind had lifted, replaced by a clarity he hadn't experienced in weeks. As he took a deep breath, he marveled at the sensation of air filling his lungs fully, without the familiar pressure that often accompanied it.

It was as if he had shed a weight that had long anchored him down, and for a moment, hope flickered in his chest. The morning light seemed warmer, the world outside his window brighter, and a sense of possibility stirred within him. Perhaps today would be different—perhaps it would be the start of something new.

Now, Harry was certain of one thing: he was never sick.

The shadow of illness that his parents had worked so hard to instill in him felt distant and almost foreign. It was as if the sickness had become a mere figment of someone else's imagination, a story that had been woven around him but no longer had any hold on his reality.

He pushed aside the memories of doctor visits and whispered concerns, refusing to let them tarnish this newfound clarity. Today, he felt vibrant, alive, and ready to embrace whatever came next.

Today felt different.

Gosh, today was different.

Harry woke up to a world that seemed brighter, as if the sun had decided to shine just for him.

His family would love to hear about this.

They would jump for joy, their faces lighting up at the sight of their boy, brimming with newfound energy. Harry could almost picture his mother, Anne, wrapping him in a tight embrace, her eyes shining with relief and pride. Gemma would surely tease him, calling him a morning person now, while Robin would nod approvingly, a knowing smile on his face.

Harry imagined their laughter echoing through the house, filling every corner with warmth and light. He could hardly wait to share this extraordinary feeling with them, to let them know that their worries had been unfounded. Today was a new beginning, and he wanted to bask in it with his family by his side.

****

Harry found himself in the kitchen, his stomach rumbling with a hunger he had long missed.

Hunger—a sensation he had almost forgotten—was back with a vengeance.

He used to love food, relishing every bite, but in recent weeks, the thought of filling his body had made him feel queasy. Now, however, the aroma wafting from the countertop filled him with excitement and anticipation.

In front of him laid a breakfast spread he had prepared, consisting of:

fluffy scrambled eggs, golden and garnished with fresh herbs; crispy bacon strips, sizzling with a savory aroma; warm buttered toast ready for strawberry jam; a bowl of mixed fruit bright with strawberries, blueberries, and bananas; and a steaming cup of coffee, promising to awaken his senses.