The sunlight stretches across the ceiling like lazy golden brushstrokes when I finally crack one eye open. 9.08 AM. I groan softly, turning over once before remembering—I don't have morning classes today. For once, no alarm, no sprint to the bus, no half-burnt toast in my mouth while trying to tie my shoes.
It's quiet. The kind of soft morning quiet that's rare in our apartment, especially with Julia around. When I finally roll out of bed and shuffle barefoot into the kitchenette, I find a note scrawled in marker on a napkin:
"Class at 8. Left you a sandwich. It's the good bread. Don't say I never spoil you. —Julia ♡"
Next to it sits a neatly wrapped sandwich, probably ham and cheese, and my favorite mug waiting to be filled.
I smile. She's annoying, but thoughtful.
I flick the kettle on and sit at the counter, slowly waking up with my hands wrapped around the mug of morning tea. My phone lights up, and I tap it lazily. One new message. Theo.
