Chapter 25: Morning Blues

A sleepwalking Katrina stumbled out, rubbing her eyes as she dragged her feet, her tail sliding against the wood behind her. The sight made me smile wide. I moved to help her back to her bed, tucking her in tightly afterward.

"Sleep tight," I whispered, moving a stray strand of hair away from her face. "I hope you feel safe here," I added as I walked toward the door.

She slowly snuggled into the plush pillows. She looked incredibly cute until a wash of snores echoed through the room. Amazingly, I couldn’t hear them once I closed the door.

Rubbing my eyes, I made my way to my own bedroom, throwing off the day’s clothes like they were on fire. I had my bed to myself tonight, and I planned on getting comfy.

I jumped into bed and closed my eyes, quickly falling asleep.

Morning came barreling into my room at mach Jesus, forcing me awake. With a loud bang, Katrina face-planted onto the floor, skidding forward an inch before landing on all fours.

"How did I?" she grumbled, raising her head until our eyes met. "Sam? Why are you in my room?" she asked as she reevaluated the situation.

"Umm... you’re in my room, Katrina," I said, leaning up. I flashed her a wide grin and said, "Good morning!"

Her face turned bright pink as she ran out of the room. The pitter-patter of her footsteps faded, the silence broken by a door being slammed and the latch clicking loudly.

I laughed to myself, overcome with a sense of joy as I reminisced on the pleasantness of waking every morning knowing I had a reason to be here.

The smell of rich and savory meats being cooked filled my nose. I kicked the comforter off me and planted my feet on the cold floor. Sitting like this for a few seconds, I took a few deep breaths. A wave of calm rushed over me.

Standing and grabbing a new pair of pants, I shoved them on. Pulling a new shirt over my head afterward, I took a moment to stretch out my arms.

A yawn forced its way out of me, causing my eyes to water a bit. I rubbed my eyes as I left my bedroom and made my way downstairs. I stopped on the last step as an idea bloomed.

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I said, "Thank you, Ignis. You are ever so dependable." But as my view became clear, Damara was the one cooking, Micro-Sarah on her shoulder, talking and laughing.

She turned around with her hand on her hip, kicking it out to the side.

"Do I look like a three-foot robot, Sam?"

Stunned, it took a few moments for my mind to align. I played it off with a smooth grin. "Not even close," I answered, lowering my voice an octave.

She laughed and turned back toward the cast-iron skillet, lowering a spatula into it and flipping a few pieces of bacon. They sizzled and hissed loudly, sending waves of steam up.

Micro-Sarah squeaked the cutest good morning ever before turning back and restarting their conversation. Watching them share the kitchen and enjoy each other made my heart thrum.

Behind me, a slow set of footsteps approached. Katrina shuffled past me into the kitchen, continuously rubbing one eye with the back of her wrist. She raised both her arms and yawned.

"Good morning..." she managed through a yawn. Sitting at the table, she lowered her head onto it.

"Give me five minutes and I’ll have us fixed up, Katrina," I said, pulling my phone out.

I added a few items to my cart and hit buy. A few boxes appeared in my hand, one emitting a bitter smell from within. Opening the boxes, I pulled out and placed the items on the counter.

Micro-Sarah flew over and landed on my shoulder, peering over.

"What are those?" she asked, flying down to inspect further. "F-foldgers? What is that?"

"This, my princesses—"

"Don’t call me that!" Damara blurted. "I don’t like being called ’princess.’" Her voice was sharper than normal.

Her sudden bite took the wind right out of my sails. My hand froze over the bright red plastic tub of coffee grounds. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the sudden rigidity in her posture.

Her shoulders had bunched up, and though her spatula remained steady over the skillet, the easy, playful atmosphere from two seconds ago had dipped.

Micro-Sarah hovered back a couple of inches, picking up on the sudden spike in tension. Over at the table, Katrina barely lifted an ear, too half-asleep to care about whatever nerve I had just hit.

I set the tub down carefully on the countertop. Whatever bad baggage came tied to that specific word ran deeper than something simple. I noted to revisit it at a later time.

"Sorry, Damara," I said, turning to the floating goddess in front of me afterward. "This is a French press," I explained, grabbing the cylindrical glass. Letting her inspect it, I continued. "This is a bucket of coffee grounds. Zap-zap juice is what Damara called it."

I grabbed a kettle and filled it with water. I turned the gas range on as I placed it on the front-right burner.

"This will kick the morning blues right out of Katrina over there," I said, pointing at the snoring cat woman. "I’m afraid she’s going to drool on the table," I teased.

Once the kettle began to steam and the hiss turned into a full-on whistle, I grabbed it and walked over to the French press. Pouring the hot water over the coffee grounds, I filled the press and placed the plunger on top without pressing it down.

"This needs to sit for a few minutes," I explained, watching the dark grounds swirl through the water.

After letting it steep, I slowly pushed the plunger down, not rushing the process. The mesh filter pressed the grounds toward the bottom, leaving the dark, freshly brewed coffee above.

I poured the liquid into a glass, adding sugar and creamer until it was a light brown and smelled rich. I tested the coffee before placing it in front of Katrina.

Her ears perked up. Peeking an eye out, she stared at me for a second before leaning up. A bead of drool attached to the table pulled thin, glimmering in the sunlight. She rubbed it off her face as she yawned again.

Picking up the mug, she blew a lazy breath over the dark liquid, parted her lips, and took a large gulp. In an instant, her green eyes blew wide, the sleep instantly banished from her face, while her spine snapped straight with an audible pop and her bushy tail shot up into the air as rigid as an iron rod, the fur puffed to absolute maximum density.

"Whoa!" she blurted.

"Good, right?" I said, making my own coffee. "Do you two want one as well?" I asked, pointing at the beauties in the kitchen.

They both nodded. After making mine, I worked on the others.

As I walked over to hand out the mugs, the ground began to shake. In the middle of the living room, a gate opened. A solid black box bound in chains fell out of it, landing with a heavy thud.

"What the fuck was that?"