Ed wakes up feeling odd and uncomfortable, though she’s not sure why. Memories from long, long ago drift across the front of her mind, unpleasant sounds and images playing as half-dreams while she lies sleepily in bed.

She’s used to waking up alone after sleeping in at least an hour or two later than Izzy on most days. They’ve always been like that. Ed sometimes worries that Izzy secretly hates it—them not getting up together the way Ed and Stede did when they were together. But, Izzy’s different than Stede.

He’s always liked his alone time. He still does the same thing every single morning. He wakes at the same godforsaken hour, no alarm needed, for a bloody workout, sans the few days he skips it to deep clean, which Ed learned to appreciate as a favor

(after investing in a white noise machine for the bedside). When she really wants to, especially in the months since they got back together, Ed can keep Izzy in bed a bit longer. But the consistency of Izzy’s morning routine is more comforting now than it used to be.

Knowing that she’ll wake to the smell of eggs and bacon or warm toast, that she’ll find Izzy downstairs scowling down at his phone with his reading glasses on and hair still undone…it’s often that image that drags her out of bed. Well, plus the rumbling in her stomach and promise of immediate food.

Ed glances at the clock on the vanity and her eyes catch on a pair of earrings that she made with Frenchie, Lucius, and their friends during some craft night thing. They’re cut from wood, and Ed got them out to go with the outfit she picked for her and Izzy’s date night this week:

a woodworking workshop that Ed is sort of dreading apart from being able to oggle Izzy’s flexing muscles as he hauls lumber around. When is that, anyway? Ed brings her gaze to the calendar where the date is clearly marked in Izzy’s neat, slanted handwriting: /Wood Shop: 5pm./