Motion sickness
Dawn's early light crept through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. I was the first to stir, my eyes opening to the quiet stillness of the morning. Lydia lay there, still ensconced in the soft embrace of sleep.
For a moment, I allowed myself to watch her, the rise and fall of her chest a silent rhythm. "She's actually quite pretty," I found myself thinking, a quiet admission in the solitude of dawn.
With care not to disturb her, I slipped out of bed and padded softly to the bathroom. The shower was a cascade of warmth, a refreshing start to what I knew would be a demanding day. I brushed my teeth, the minty freshness a stark contrast to the sleep that still clung to the edges of my consciousness.