Lucy wakes up every day at almost the same time, even without needing an alarm clock, because her body simply decides it's rested enough and that the world outside must have new things happening. She opens her eyes slowly, looking first at the bedroom ceiling, as if confirming that she's still in the same place as yesterday, and then turns her head to the side, hugging the pillow for a few seconds before getting up. She's still learning that days exist, that they pass, that they aren't all the same, but she likes the feeling of starting over.
She gets out of bed carefully, because once she fell trying to get out too quickly and was a little annoyed with herself, even without quite understanding why. She walks to the door, opens it slowly and goes out into the hallway, already smelling the scent that always appears in the morning. It's a good smell. It's warm. It's familiar. She doesn't yet know how to explain it with pretty words, but she knows she likes it.
