I awake the next morning full of equal parts nerves and exhaustion. I didn’t sleep well at all. I tossed and turned, never quite waking but never quite falling asleep.
Rosa, by contrast, looks like she got plenty of beauty sleep. “Morning,” she chirps, bursting through the adjoining door at nine in the morning, freshly showered, made up, dressed, and coiffed. Rosa is one of those people who wakes up looking glam, and she only improves when she actually puts in effort.
She drags the blankets off me while I grumble complaints under my breath and cling to a flimsy sheet still surrounding me. I pull it over my head, but it does nothing to block out the early morning light.
“I’d rather not,” I say, keeping the ineffective sheet over my head.
“No choice, it’s morning whether you’d rather i
