Regrets

The sun streamed through the curtains, harsh and unrelenting, like a personal vendetta against everyone in the house. Amara groaned, burying her face in the pillow as her head throbbed like a drumline had taken up residence in her skull.

"Who let the sun in?" she mumbled, her voice muffled.

"Technically, that's the Earth's rotation," Elara said brightly, already dressed, with not a hair out of place.

Amara peeked at her through one eye. "Why do you look like you just stepped out of a spa commercial?"

"Because I drank water and paced myself," Elara replied with a smug smile.

Amara groaned again, rolling onto her back and shielding her eyes from the light. "Great, now you're not just gorgeous; you're insufferable."

"You flatter me," Elara teased, placing a glass of water on the bedside table. "Drink this before you shrivel up into a raisin."