Demien woke before his alarm on Tuesday, October 17th, lying still in the dark hotel room for several seconds.
Southgate's words from the night before came back immediately.
You start tomorrow.
He wasn't wondering if it was real.
He was already thinking about Italy — about Barella and Cristante and Di Lorenzo, about ninety minutes standing between England and Germany next summer.
He pressed two fingers into the bruised spot on his ankle first.
Mildly tender, still.
He rotated it slowly, weight shifting through the joint.
Normal.
He flexed both calves next, feeling the accumulated weight of a season that had barely paused for him, then sat up and got moving before his body had time to talk him out of it.
Breakfast ran like any other matchday, trays and cutlery and low conversation rather than tension.
