"Morning, sleepyhead," a voice calls from somewhere. I stretch my arm and a painful twinge pierces my heart. There's no one beside me. I'm imagining his voice. I imagined everything and am actually in my bed, probably passed out from too much work. But it can't be. The mattress is too soft, the sheets too delicate. I lower the cover slowly, very slowly, and find James at the foot of the mattress, fully dressed. "Come on, we've got a long day ahead of us," he grins. "Just give me a minute," I grumble. "I can't think without a cup of coffee." "The faster we leave, the faster you'll get coffee.""I need my phone," I say, pressing the bottom of my palms on my eyes. A soft thump next to my ear tells me I don't have to search for it anymore. I always read one or two random news articles right after waking up, just to give my eyes something to do so they don't shut themselves again. Of course, the past few days I skipped that in favor of obsessively checking my emails for replies from the myriad of applications I sent.
