𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 ~| 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴

Days On End

~'~

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝?

𝐈 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Cassi

Mornings and I had a long-standing, mutual dislike.

Some people woke up gracefully, stretching in golden beams of sunlight, immediately prepared to embrace the day with productivity and optimism. I was not one of those people. I was the kind of person who woke up feeling like I'd just emerged from a crypt, confused and mildly hostile toward the living.

It wasn't that I hated mornings. I just didn't think they had any business existing before noon.

Which was a problem, considering I'd been thrust into the soul-crushing world of job hunting, where people apparently expected you to function at ungodly hours. I'd quickly learned that "I am not a morning person" was not a valid excuse for skipping interviews. Neither was "I need to emotionally prepare for being perceived." Which felt like a double standard, really.

I was clinging to my last few hours of blissful unconsciousness, tangled in my sheets, face half-smushed into my pillow, fully prepared to sleep through the apocalypse if necessary.

I was not a morning person.

I was barely even a mid-morning person.

And it wasn't that I was unpleasant in the mornings, per se. It was just that I was... selectively pleasant. The kind of pleasant that involved minimal words, minimal movement, and, if I was really lucky, minimal human interaction before at least ten a.m.

It wasn't too much to ask.

Unfortunately, the universe didn't seem to share my vision of peace.

Because right as I was in the sweet, blissful haze of half-sleep, drifting somewhere between unconsciousness and the vague memory of a dream I couldn't quite hold onto—there was a knock at my door.

I ignored it.

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

I cracked one eye open, staring at the ceiling in exhausted betrayal. Maybe if I stayed perfectly still, whoever it was would think I wasn't home.

The knock came a third time.

I groaned, flinging an arm over my face. "No."

A pause.

Then another knock.

Dragging myself up with all the energy of a zombie clawing its way out of the grave, I shuffled out of bed, blanket still wrapped tightly around my shoulders, and made my way to the door. I didn't bother looking through the peephole. Whoever was on the other side of this door had just waged war against my morning routine, and I was prepared to meet them on the battlefield.