I wake up to the sound of a loud alarm beeping. The amber morning sun streams through mine and Chloe's shared window and lands right in my eyes. The very early morning sun it seems; it's still mostly dark out. I fall forwards and groan into my hands. The offending sound is coming from Chloe's side of the room. Does this girl get up at six in the morning? I stumble out of bed and grope around half-blind trying to search for the source of the incessant ringing. Unfortunately, it's coming from Chloe's pocket, probably her phone.
"Chloe," I say, nudging her shoulder, "Chloe your alarm is going off."
She's unresponsive, the only sound is her snoring.
"Your phone, Chloe," I say, my brain still too busy booting up to offer a more compelling plea.
My words falls on deaf ears. I groan, and in lieu of a third plea, I poke her on the cheek.
This is more effective. Chloe bolts awake and nearly flies off her bed. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" she shouts. I'm forced to take a step back, and trip, falling ass-first to the floor. Chloe comes to rest, kneeling on her bed. "What happened, where am I?" she asks. Her eyes flutter open. Even from the ground, I can see she's got some nasty cataracts, I can barely make out horizontal slit pupils and the dirty-golden edges of her irises.
