Once upon a time, Rob lived for early mornings. He loved the ease of waking up naturally, with the sun shining on his face. On days like these, he’d head for the beach. Driving down empty streets, his board in tow, he was always eager for the smell of salt in the air and the feeling of the icy waves crashing all around him.

And he’d come home feeling invigorated.

Motivated.

Ready to take on the day.

Somewhere along the way, things changed, but Rob couldn’t remember when.

These days, Rob dreads that time of the morning when the light of the sun begins to find its way into his bedroom. It creeps around the curtains, falling callously on his sleeping form. He stirs, gives a little groan, and rolls onto his front, burying his face in the mountain of pillows, willing himself back to sleep.

His attempts are futile, but then, they always are.

And so he lies there, feeling languid.

Apathetic.

Hiding from the world.

He stays, unmoving, in his bed. Around him, the day goes on, as it always does. The bathroom door opens, and Rob silently watches as the shadow moves about the room. He feels the bed move, and arms that tightly wrap around him. He feels warm breath on his back, and a kiss pressed upon his shoulder.

‘Come downstairs for breakfast.’

He doesn’t respond. He never does. The warmth is suddenly gone, and Rob cringes as the door slams, knowing that he can’t keep doing this.

He often wonders what it would take to break this cycle of monotony.