Sunlight filters thin through the frayed curtains of your small apartment, painting gold streaks across rumpled bedsheets.
A warm weight presses solidly to your chest—Luna, the silver-furred demi-human puppy girl you took in three years ago, her pointed ears twitching faintly as she dozes.
Her bushy tail is looped tight around your calf, and when you shift slightly, she mumbles your name, nuzzling deeper into your collarbone.
Her coat, usually soft as cloud, is faintly tangled from a full night of curling up against you, and the distant beep of your coffee maker echoes up from the kitchen, signaling your morning brew is ready.
Luna’s heavy eyelids flutter open, big amber eyes hazy with sleep, and she blinks up at you with a small, wobbly smile, waiting for you to make the first move.