The world seemed to despise (Name), but at least today, it gave him the peace of having no dreams. He'd call it a blessing, a tiny miracle, but acknowledging the good only widened the gap between this good thing and the next. Soon enough, the gap would be so vast that he'd never experience one nice thing again. Just a perpetual life of mediocrity. Of shitty inconveniences and heavy-hitting depression.

Why did his human self ever agree to become like this, anyway?

Lying awake in what he supposed to be early morning, he stares at the ceiling. The previous day had devastated him, not that he'd ever let the outside world see that. The nightmares and the discovery of that damned ebony hedgehog were too much for him to process in just one short day. But today had to be his day. There was no way he would let shitty sentiments and a startling discovery stop him from working at his shitty little gas station job today. Then when he came home in the late hours of the evening, he'd read a book. Or something like that. Maybe treat himself to terrible fast food, some melancholy movies, and a Netflix binge. That usually uplifted his mood.

Sighing in discontent, (Name) rolls off his bed and checks the time. It was only four in the morning. His shift didn't start until six in the morning, and his alarm for five hadn't even had the opportunity to go off. What an inconvenience waking up now had become for him. Of course, he could always go back to sleep, but he felt that doing so would bring back those dreams he desperately wanted to avoid. So, instead, (Name) makes his way into the cramped little kitchen of his apartment. The now-stale coffee and shards of broken ceramic still lay on the floor. He steps over the mess, telling himself he'll clean it later when he finds the motivation to, heading to the coffee machine to make a coffee.

Sleep. Eating. Drinking. None of it was required. But it made (Name) feel relatively normal, somewhat alive, so he did everything he could to ensure he felt at least a little less inhuman than he already was. Becoming the creature he was now had ripped away any last shreds of his humanity. He always found it strange that two different people could come from the same brain. Pondering about it too much induced a spiral of odd thoughts, so he tried to avoid the topic as much as possible. Just another accumulation to the list of why his life sucked, he presumed.

Like every morning, (Name) fixes himself a cup of shitty coffee, but today he doesn't turn on the news. He made that mistake yesterday, and for a long time, he wouldn't be tuning into that again. Thoughts of the ebony hedgehog flash through his mind, but he refuses to acknowledge them, downing his scalding coffee. More burnt tongue than actual taste, but the pain made him feel alive—even if it was short-lived. Sighing in displeasure, (Name) silently puts the now empty mug into his sink before stepping over the ceramic and stale coffee mess on the tiled floor. He would need to get ready, wearing the stupid uniform required at his job. Like many Mobians, (Name) wore only his branded employee polo shirt to work. Not many pants were manufactured with Mobians in mind—unless one wanted to feel embarrassed by shopping in the human child section.

The grey hedgehog returns to his room, glancing at his bedside clock. Only twenty minutes had passed. He would need to set off on foot for work in a little over an hour, at five-thirty. Putting his shirt and his shoes on would take only minutes. What would he do in that remaining hour? Sure, he could read a book, but his mind was too restless to appreciate some well-written literature truly. The TV wasn't an option, as cartoons and soaps played on the air held no interest in him, and he didn't want to watch the news after yesterday. If that ebony menace was at large, with the confusion of that pesky blue blur, then that would be all the media coverage would focus on.

As he puts on his clothes, (Name) contemplates how to spend his time.

It had been a while since he had worked out, but he didn't feel like spending half his time trying to figure out where he stashed his gym equipment, only to have no time to finish a proper workout. Going to the local gym wasn't an option, either. The humans there constantly poked and prodded at (Name), trying to pick a fight. Furthermore, many of the 'dude-bros' that frequented said gym were people who despised non-human Mobians. It would be easier to avoid them rather than give a reason for an attempted hate crime against him—even if they couldn't do anything to injure him in a way that mattered. Besides, again he would waste time and potentially make himself late for work.

Deciding on the easiest option, (Name) embarks towards his shitty gas station job at four-thirty in the morning, despite his shift not starting for another hour and a half.

He just needed an average day, and maybe an early start would transition into something pleasant.