Inspiration: Real life

Sweet cinnamon

Derek turned his head over on his pillow debating whether to stay half asleep with the sun already shining bright through his windows or get up and get going on his day.

On the one hand, Derek had been steadily losing hours of sleep lately with his late nights and earlier hockey practices. However short, another hour of sleep could benefit him greatly, not to mention the laziness factor already kicking in. The process of opening his eyes, lifting off his dark colored sheets and swinging his feet around to the side of the bed seemed like a tiring venture.

On the other hand though, the bed, at the moment, didn't seem as comfortable as a hot steamy shower and the grumbling his stomach was making couldn't be good. Some slices of bacon and possibly pancakes (if he wasn't too lazy to make them) were almost enough to get him off his bed.

Instead of doing either, he lay there groaning to himself over his lack of composure. He even started dreaming that he was waking up and getting dressed. But when his eyes flicked open to the intense sunbeams, he was still there, motionless on his bed, facing the window, with a true internal stalemate decision.

The two options at this point remained even. There was neither an overruling reason to stay asleep or one to wake up. It was almost surreal. Derek thought back to previous mornings and never once did he remember it being this hard. He was fully aware of where he was, but yet he could still fall into short dream states without his will.

Then Derek smelled something very familiar. His eyes were closed, which took out his sense of sight and while he wasn't deaf, his constant bombardment of thoughts was keeping his hearing sense occupied. Once the smell registered in Derek's mind his eyes flew open and he shot up in bed.

There was only one reason he would ever smell that scent in his apartment. There was only one flavor of coffee that he wouldn't brew himself. And there was only one person who could get him out of bed on this lazy day.

"Do you want any coffee Derek?" Her voice rang out entering his room, following the scent.

"What kind is it?" He asked back.

"Cinnamon." She replied.

"Of course it is, why did I even ask." He said so quietly, he could barely hear his own words. "Sure." He continued, his voice louder now, "I'll have a cup."

What do you think? I wrote it very late at night, but I still love it.

RR