Sharplow

You are Sharpness

A warm little morning. Light filtered through the window, illuminating the room and leaving a patch of shade over the single bed—where Jude was tossing and turning discontentedly. Jude shifted grumpily and mumbled something, realizing that after the night, he had simply been dumped in this bed.. Jude propped himself up on his elbows, ignoring his disheveled purple hair, and let out a quiet huff

— Sharp, sunshine, come on, let's lie here a bit longer!.. It's only nine in the morning..