The sun beams so bright that the eyes can't take it. At least, not now. Having just waken up, they're tired. And heavy. So heavy, in fact, getting up seems like an almost impossible task with the combination of sore ankles, being super exhausted, as well as a now killer migraine.

She hasn't woken up like this for almost a year now. Maybe it could even be more, she isn't really sure it's been that long. She could do the math and figure it out, but it doesn't seem worth it. She props herself up, noticing that the spot next to her is empty. He isn't there, which is very, very strange. He always sleeps later than her, because she like making breakfast. Even if he does wake first, he won't actually get up until he's sure she's gone.

The two of them have a system. It makes things work just right for them. Things are peaceful and happy. She bites her lip, brushing the piece of hair that is stuck to her cheekbone with dried drool back behind her ear. Something seems off about this morning, but she just can't put a finger to it.

With a yawn, she throws her feet off the side of the bed. Her red robe is draped on the chair across the room, she might as well put it on. Walking out into the open, while Castle would enjoy it, the rest of the family might not.

Her feet almost drag across the plush carpet, her brown locks hanging messily down her back. She rubs her head. Aspirin. About twenty should do the trick. The pain in her head is becoming almost unbearable.

She walks out into the front room. No one is in sight. Which is even stranger than Castle not being asleep next to her when she woke up. The green numbers on the top of the over read 9:32, maybe he had a meeting or something similar. She reaches to the cabinet above the stove, having to stand on her toes just to get it open, getting the pain killers out is going to be even more of a pain.

She grabs one of the pots from the cupboard next the fridge, tipping it upside down to use it as a step. Finally getting the little white bottle, she takes out two pills, setting them on the counter before filling a large glass up with ice water.

Another hour passes and no one comes through the front room. The house is dead silent. She's managed to shower, dry and straighten her hair, and get through a couple of chapters in the novel she had started reading a few days prior. Something is up, and what it is, she doesn't know. But she's a detective, and snooping is pretty much her entire occupation. Whatever is going on, she's going to figure out what it is.

Welp, prologue/chapter one/whatever you want to call it down, lots of longer chapters to come.

I feel like if I ever want to get my writing off the ground i need to stop procrastination and like, actually write a solid story instead of just like... nothingness.

But this isn't going to be like a million and four chapters. Probably like, four. Or five.

But the other ones will be longer than this. Like three times longer or something like that.

That's all I have to say about that.

So, bye. Sorry for jabbering.