I'm awake

DAYBREAK

I cracked one eye open, blinking at the ceiling like it owed me money. My brain was still half-asleep, simmering in grumpy resentment. Then the alarm erupted — that infernal beeping assaulting my ears like a damn war siren. I slammed my hand down, but the noise didn’t stop. Fine. If you wanted attention, you got it. I yanked it off the nightstand, tossing it to the floor. The plastic cracked. Little pieces flew.

“Finally,” I muttered, sitting up. My head pounded, and I rubbed my temples. The morning light felt invasive.

My cat, Cipher, stretched on the edge of the bed, tail flicking. She regarded me, eyes half-lidded, like I’d just interrupted her poetry reading. She meowed softly, the kind of “what now?” meow that made me feel guilty for waking up grumpy.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, reaching out. She nudged my hand with her head. I scratched behind her ears. Her purr was a tiny motor. I should’ve started here, with her, but I was already cranky.

I shoved off the covers, planting my feet on the floor. The cold wood hit my toes and I winced. I stood, stretching out – my muscles felt stiff, like I’d slept in the wrong posture. After a beat, I made for the shower, swearing under my breath.

The water was hot enough to sting, and steam curled up around me. It was the only part of morning I didn’t want to punch in the face. I leaned against the wall, letting it wash away the fog. My mind drifted to the day ahead — to my tech-gauntlets on the counter, glinting under the harsh fluorescent light.

As soon as I stepped out, I wrapped a towel around my waist, dried off, then flexed my fingers as I slid on those gauntlets. They snapped into place with a satisfying click. Instantly, I felt better — solid, ready, capable. A little weight on my arms, but in a good way.

I walked into the small kitchenette, making myself coffee. The steam curled in lazy spirals, the bitter smell grounding me. Cipher trotted after me, hopping up on the counter like she owned the place. She bat at the bag of coffee beans with her paw, demanding attention. Typical.

“Okay, okay,” I said, scooping out grounds. She meowed again, louder this time, and I reached over to undo her collar and scratch her neck. She leaned in, eyes closed. For a second, I could forget about everything else.

But I couldn’t shake it. A weird, jittery feeling settled at the back of my neck, like something was off. My heartbeat felt too loud, or maybe I was just listening too hard.

I finished my coffee, took a long sip — bitter, grounding — and then headed out. The hallway smelled like stale carpet and cleaning solution. I passed Juno, the receptionist, who was already at her desk, typing furiously.

“Mornin’, Day,” she said, giving me a tight smile. Her hair was always messy in the mornings, like she’d run her hands through it five times too many.

“You look like you wrestled your pillow,” I said, leaning on the doorframe.

She rolled her eyes, but her grin was real. “You sound charming as always.”

I pushed off and continued down the corridor to the workshop. Rex, my teammate, was already tinkering with one of our drones, his face lit by the soft glow of his tools. He glanced up. “Alarm again?”

I grunted. “Gave it a one-way trip to oblivion.”

He snorted. “Classic Day.”

I shrugged. “Better than listening to it torture me.” But even as I said that, the weird feeling crept in deeper, like something under my skin.

My boss, Marisol, was standing by the big window, arms crossed, watching the city wake up. She turned when she saw me.

“Morning,” I said, trying for neutral. It came out flat.

“You look off today,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”

I forced a shrug. “Just didn’t get enough sleep, I guess.”

She studied me a moment, then nodded. “Well, we’ve got the A-team meeting in ten. Be there.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. I turned to leave, but paused. The feeling, that strange itch, was growing stronger. What was that about?

I shut the door behind me, trying to focus on the hum of the workshop, on Rex’s tool buzz, on Cipher’s soft meows in my memory. But even with the gauntlets locked on and my coffee in hand, I couldn’t shake it.

A bad morning, I thought. But maybe, just maybe, it was a sign of something more.

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