Back In Atlas

Ethan snored softly, his body sinking deeper into the couch with every slow breath.

His chest rose and fell steadily, completely lost in sleep.

At some point during the night, he had shifted, rolling onto his side, but he never fully fell off the couch.

One arm dangled lazily over the edge, while his other hand was tucked under his head, his face relaxed in deep slumber.

The living room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a nearby clock. The morning sun had already begun creeping in through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room.

The minutes passed, the clock hands moving steadily forward.

It was already getting late.

If he didn't wake up soon, he wouldn't make it to Atlas early.

A light tapping on his arm disrupted his peaceful rest.

Ethan stirred, groaning softly as he tried to swat at whatever was disturbing him.

The tapping persisted — gentle but insistent.