Amare

Another Morning

The soft morning light filtered through my window as my alarm buzzed persistently on the bedside table. I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head, savoring its warmth for just a few more moments. Eventually, I sighed and tossed it aside. Another day of classes. Another day to pull myself together.

The air in my room was crisp as I shuffled to the closet, grabbing a comfortable pair of jeans and a simple sweater. Tying my hair back, I caught my reflection in the mirror—eyes heavy with sleep, but waking up little by little.

Downstairs, the inviting aroma of toast and coffee wrapped around me like a warm hug.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Dad greeted from the kitchen table, his coffee mug held aloft like a trophy. "Do you want coffee or a joke to start your day?"

"Definitely not the joke," I said, sliding into my seat.

"You don't get a choice!" he grinned. "Why did the student eat their homework?"

I sighed, resigned to my fate. "Why, Dad?"

"Because the teacher said it was a piece of cake!" His laughter filled the room as I rolled my eyes and reached for the toast.

Mom glanced over from the stove, flipping eggs with practiced ease. "You'll miss these jokes someday," she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Sure, I will," I muttered, though my small smile betrayed me.

"Dad, we should go," I said after finishing my breakfast. "I don't want to be late."

"Late? You're always early," he quipped, grabbing the car keys. "But alright, let's roll!"

The drive to campus was serene, the kind of calm that makes mornings feel like a fresh start. Rain had washed the streets clean overnight, leaving everything shiny and new. I stared out the window as the world blurred by, lost in thought.

"So," Dad began, breaking the silence, "what's the plan today? Ace all your classes? Save the world? Discover the meaning of life?"

"Starting small," I said, matching his playful tone. "Maybe just stay awake through my first lecture."

"Good strategy. Basics first," he nodded, drumming the steering wheel lightly. "Oh, and don't forget to keep an eye out for suspicious boys."

I groaned. "Are we really doing this again?"

"Hey, it's my job as your dad to remind you I have a very particular set of skills," he said with mock seriousness.

"Yeah—like binge-watching crime shows and falling asleep halfway through?" I shot back with a grin.

He laughed. "Touché. But seriously, you know I'm just a call away if you need anything."

"Got it, Dad. Thanks."

As we pulled into the university parking lot, I glanced at the clock—plenty of time before my first class.

Before I stepped out of the car, Dad leaned over with a mock-serious expression. "And remember: don't let anyone out-joke me. That's my thing."

"Don't worry," I smiled. "You've set the bar impossibly high."

With a wave, I shut the door and watched him drive off, his car disappearing around the corner.

Checking my phone, I saw I still had over an hour to spare. Silere, the cafe I'd visited yesterday, was just a short walk away. Its quiet charm had stayed with me, and I couldn't resist the pull of another iced caramel latte and its peaceful atmosphere.

The bell chimed softly as I pushed open the door, and Silere's familiar warmth welcomed me in. Light streamed through the tall windows, bathing the space in a gentle glow.

The barista today wasn't Sam but a woman I hadn't seen before. Her cropped hair framed sharp features, but her warm smile made her seem approachable.

"Morning! Back so soon?" she greeted as I approached the counter.

"Yeah, I guess I couldn't stay away," I said, smiling.

"Glad to hear it. What's your name?" she asked, pen poised over a cup.

"Ai," I replied. "A-I."

"Got it," she said, jotting it down. "I'm Claire. Nice to meet you. First time yesterday, right? How'd you like it?"

"It was great," I said, leaning slightly against the counter. "Quiet, but not too quiet. A good balance."

"That's what we aim for," Claire said with a grin. "A little pocket of calm in the chaos. So, what's the plan today? Studying? Writing? Or just caffeine?"

"Mostly caffeine," I admitted with a chuckle. "But I guess writing too. It's a nice place to get lost in my thoughts."

"A writer, huh? Or just a dreamer?" she teased as she started my drink.

"Maybe a bit of both," I said, still smiling.

Claire glanced at me curiously. "So, I noticed you weren't flying solo yesterday. That guy—Sol, right?"

The question caught me off guard. I hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, Sol. We're classmates."

"Got it," Claire said, her smile taking on a playful edge. "He seems interesting. Quiet, but like there's more beneath the surface."

I shrugged, keeping my tone light. "He's alright. Mysterious, maybe. But we're just classmates."

"Classmates. Sure," she said, not bothering to hide her amusement. Sliding my latte across the counter, she added, "Mysterious guys makes the best muses. Just saying."

I rolled my eyes but laughed, grabbing my drink. "Thanks, Claire. I'll keep that in mind."

I returned to the same cozy corner by the window, settling into my spot with my latte and the journal. The cafe's quiet hum wrapped around me, offering the perfect refuge to lose myself in thought.

'Mysterious guys as muses? Maybe.'