A hand gently shook Kenneth's shoulder, pulling him out of his blissful sleep. What that blissful dream was, he wouldn't be able to tell you even if he was held at gunpoint. He tended not to remember the non-traumatic ones—much to his chagrin.
"Kenneth."
He groaned, his hand swatting away whatever it was trying to bother him.
"Wake up," a voice called above him.
"No."
A deep chuckle filled the quiet room. It was breathy and pleasant, the kind of sound you could never tire of hearing. The longer it seemed to stretch, the more Kenneth wanted to hear. But he was still tired, chasing those last precious vestiges of sleep. He pulled the covers higher over his head.
This amused whoever it was trying to wake him. "It's five already."
"Okay. Give me thirty more minutes then," he grunted.
"No. Five means time for a run."
"You can start without me."
