I swipe at my nose because it tickles, but there’s nothing there. Just ten more minutes of sleep, I think, as I attempt to turn over and snuggle deeper into my bed. Only to sit up straight, terrified at the realization that I’m not in my bed.
Harry is resting his chin on his arms, which are crossed on the back of the sofa where he’s squatting, as he laughs softly at my consternation at waking up in his house. “Get up, Suge! We’re going jogging!”
“Ugh,” I groan, “Can I at least brush my teeth first?” And then I realize I don’t have a toothbrush here.
But apparently just thinking it conjures one up, as Harry, with a goofy smirk, produces a wrapped toothbrush and sample sized toothpaste. Grabbing both, I launch myself from the sofa and make use of the loo, emerging in my wrinkled workout clothes with freshly brushed teeth. My hair is still in its braid from yesterday, so I pile the whole mess on my head and pin it up quickly. Together, we head across the street to Hampstead Heath. A light jog warms us up, and then we continue around the 3.6 mile path.
Imagine your brotp in high school. One is a writer, the other is an artist. One day, during a group assignment, they discover they both would love to start a comic about the same topic, and soon after decide to develop a project together. Through the ups and downs surrounding creation they bond and become best friends.
Bonus: they also start a series of mischief at school, such as making parody pamphlets about their teachers, swapping assignments copies for a version with personal touch, etc.