Nyaruai

Your eyes fly open at the sound of the alarm. That damn thing still makes your heart skip a beat, or two, even though you decided to move it into the living room to help you manage your chronic snoozelosis.  Its 5.30 in the morning, that time when the witches are going to sleep. Your beetroot eyes betray you’re drunken with sleep situation. Lazily turning over, you gaze at him in his sleep, wondering how he could dare sleep through that goddamn shrill. 'He looks so peaceful. “What tale is weaving inside there?”, you wonder out loud. You place a light kiss on his forehead and pull yourself out of bed. You hear him stir. 'So now he wakes up'. 'Mmhhh. Baby. Five more minutes' he says patting the sunken spot in the bed you just got off of. It’s tempting really, five more minutes and you’ll need to conjure the gods to work the Moses magic and separate traffic for you to scoot across town and make it to work on time.  He’s lucky it’s his day off, so five more minutes o