NOTE: This entry is part of my "Personification Series" where I personify the days of the week into people.
As morning screams through the window of the bedroom, she groans, cotton-mouthed, into the puddle of drool on her pillow.
Peeling herself from her sheets, she looks to be hung over on sleep. Her eyes barely register the alarm clock or the upset cat that stretches from his nest of dirty laundry on the foot of the bed.
Her hair is a mess, barely tied in a bun at the back of her head--fly away hairs escape in each direction. She rolls out of bed with a yawn in grubby sweats that beg to be nestled beneath a blanket with a cozy side of Netflix.
"Coffee," her sleep-drenched voice cracks out, but is it a question or a demand?
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