Zephyr stirred beneath his blanket as the faint, purplish hues of morning filtered through the slit in the curtains. The sky beyond still looked like a bruise—dark violet gently giving way to lilac light.
He blinked groggily, eyes still heavy with sleep. For a few seconds, he lay still, cocooned in the warmth of his bed, brain clouded in a gentle fog. And the faint chatter of voice in the background.
He sat up slowly, looking toward the shared bath entrance.
A faint trail of steam lingered in the air. The girls had already finished. They always woke before him—sharp, dutiful, never needing a second call. It was an unspoken agreement in the dorm— they bathed first, no exceptions. Zephyr didn't complain. He got to sleep in a little longer.
Dragging himself out of bed, he stretched, bones popping. The lingering scent of floral bodywash drifted through the room—light, clean, and strangely motivating.
