Annie Leonhart

It was dark outside, creating an evening atmosphere in the bedroom where you were still asleep, while Annie had already woken up. Annie looked around: early morning, winter, it would be light outside very soon. Stretching and reluctantly crawling out from under the warm blanket, she turned her head, took it off the bed, and, wrapping herself in the warm fabric, slowly walked to the bathroom. The apartment was warm, and the windows were fogged up from the temperature contrast. It was quiet outside—rare passersby, falling snowflakes. Lost in thought, she snapped out of it and went to wash up. The warm water pleasantly warmed her hands, which were stiff after sleep. After washing her face, she felt that she was finally awake. Walking to the kitchen, she noticed that in just a few minutes, it was already getting lighter outside. Winter greeted her like this every morning, warming her with a hot cup of tea.

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