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The night was filled with a deep silence. The raw, haunting noises of owls could make anyone shiver. The soft rustling from the bed was proof Leo couldn’t sleep on the floor. But that wasn’t what made her wake up.
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Anna sat up—not because of Leo, not because of the creepy sounds—but because she saw something. Something… off. A flicker in the corner of her eye, a feeling that something wasn’t right. Her chest tightened. She curled up on the bed where Leo had already claimed a spot. The dog, sensing something weird in the air, let out a soft sigh. What could he do? Bark?
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Nothing happened. No shadow leapt out. No face stared back. Eventually, they both drifted back to sleep as the noises faded away…
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Until—
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“Anna, wake up! You’re getting late for school!”
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Now, you’d expect a sleepy “Five more minutes!” from a normal kid, but Anna? Nope. She never asks permission to do what she wants. So, she stays asleep anyway—even though she knows school’s waiting, studying’s waiting, and best of all—Leo’s gift is waiting...
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She finally wakes up, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly, she freezes.
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“PINKIIIIIIII!!”
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Her scream echoes through the house, loud enough to make her mom drop plates in the kitchen. But don’t expect her mom to panic or rush in. This? This is routine. If Anna’s awake, then the shouting has begun—especially when Pinky, her fluffy bear, is missing.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAbBaUWlxf6r
A deep sigh fills the room once Anna finds him—squished under her bed, tangled in a blanket like a tiny hostage. It’s just her nature. Anna always keeps things where she won’t forget them. Like… scissors under the bed, books under the cupboard, and shoes on the TV. She’s creative like that.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAt9xPAibOoR
She gets up—or almost falls down trying—and drags herself into the kitchen, not to eat, but to tease her mom. She knows what she really has to do: clean up Leo’s little morning surprises. Ugh.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAQQ0OoFyjvQ
She puts on a bitter smile and starts cleaning. Then comes her favorite part of the morning—singing in the bathroom. But don’t call it singing. It’s more like screaming into a microphone at a rock concert. Can anyone stop her? Nope. She’s unstoppable.
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Until—
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The train horn.
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“UGH. Again?! I missed the train!”
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She stumbles out of the bathroom, still yelling—but at what, exactly? Everything. The blanket for not fixing itself. Her clothes for hiding. Her socks for disappearing like magic beans.
157Please respect copyright.PENANAHzBVMhUvUi
Her mom? A literal robot, rushing around helping her find everything: clothes, books, even the ancient rusty lunchbox that should honestly be in a museum by now.
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Then… the best character arrives.
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Her dad, still sleeping like a dead whale on the couch. Anna walks up to him and gives him a slap on the butt—her version of an alarm clock.
157Please respect copyright.PENANALFZT8BFbdO
Does it work? Of course. She’s the ruler of the house. No one disobeys her, or risk having the roof fly off from one of her rage storms.
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Then she storms into her brother’s room. He’s had maybe two hours of sleep, because—was he studying? Please. He was gaming all night like a mouse with thumbs, probably finishing the fridge snacks too. No wonder he’s called the “two-legged mouse.”
157Please respect copyright.PENANAZt8CKwHmxh
She crashes in, slaps his butt too, and yells at him. Again. If you can find one moment where Anna isn’t angry, you get a prize. (Well… maybe when she’s talking to herself, or to Pinky. Or Leo the poop king.)
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Mission: accomplished.
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Now comes Mission 2: ignoring tea.
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She never drinks tea in the morning. It’s made, ignored, left to get cold, and then handed off to the two-legged mouse brother like a “gift of disappointment.” Breakfast? Ew. But she eats anyway, chased by her unstoppable mom’s screams. No wonder Anna has such a powerful voice—it’s genetic.
157Please respect copyright.PENANA1UzZvXsku2
Another train horn. Where’s Anna? Gone. Half a second ago. Lucky her—she lives just a few steps from the train station, which she lovingly calls Cry Baby Palace (because, obviously, the horn sounds like a giant toddler crying for attention).
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She finally makes it. She smiles proudly—not because she’s ready to fail math again, but because she beat the train.
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But wait… Where’s that smile?
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Gone.
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It’s replaced by her usual tough, mysterious exterior. The one that makes people think she’s made of glass—hard, cold, and unreadable.
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The train approaches slowly, and her mind starts yelling:
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“Can you jump?”
“What if you don’t get on?”
“What if everything ends?”
“What if you disappear, and no one even notices?”
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“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, YOU ALL SHUT UP!”
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She actually yells that out loud. Everyone stares. She glares back. They heard her.
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Oops.
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She’s an introvert—home is her happy place. School? Jail.
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And this morning is a brutal reminder: The vacation is over. A whole month—gone.
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It was just yesterday, wasn’t it?
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“THIS IS SO UNFAIIIIIIIRRRRRRRR!!”
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