Morning sunlight is already stabbing my eyes like it has a personal grudge.
The music is off—probably because the speaker finally gave up on us and died while charging. My eyes slowly crack open, and immediately my body files a formal complaint.
Everything hurts.
I slept on the floor.
Like a peeled potato.
My back cracks. My hips ache. My thighs hurt in a way I refuse to explain because you're all smart enough to connect the dots.
I groan and roll slightly, regretting every life choice I made last night.
I look around.
Yuyu is sprawled on the couch, blanket half-fallen, hair doing whatever it wants. Jiang—wait, Jiang?
My heart does a tiny panic jump.
I scan the room.
Ah.
Kitchen.
I force myself to sit up and instantly regret it. "Ugh," I mutter, clutching my head. Beer hangover. Christmas edition.
I squint at the clock.
8:00 a.m.
Right.
These two have a holiday today.
Lucky humans.
I, meanwhile, am walking like a 90-year-old auntie.
