[115 Days Left to Live]
Zephany woke up with a quiet start, blinking against the soft morning light that slipped in through the thin curtains of their small apartment. The air was cool, the kind that gently coaxed a person to stay under the covers a little longer. But not today.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair out of her face. For a moment, she remained still, listening.
Silence.
A small, proud smile crept onto her face.
"I woke up earlier than Kendrick again," she whispered to herself, a little pleased hum escaping her lips.
She stood, slid her feet into the fuzzy slippers by the bed, and tiptoed out of the bedroom. The floor creaked gently beneath her feet as she padded toward the kitchen. There was a certain lightness in her steps, like her body already knew the rhythm of her new little morning tradition.
