Micah woke up late in the afternoon. He blinked slowly, his lashes sticking together, and lay there for a while. His body felt heavy, almost boneless, but not in a bad way, more like he had finally gotten some real rest. With a groggy groan, he stretched his arms above his head, the joints in his back and neck popping loudly in protest. "Ah…finally," he muttered, rolling his shoulders until they gave another series of cracks.
Then his stomach growled loudly. He froze before rubbing it in a lazy circle. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he grumbled.
Kicking off the sheets, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. His hair stuck out in every direction, his shirt was twisted, and his slippers were mismatched, but he couldn't be bothered to fix any of it. With a yawn that cracked his jaw, he scratched himself and walked downstairs.
