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Laziness of the sort that weighs down a man's soul pervaded that morning. A man would have preferred to simply fall asleep for a very long time in that kind of weather. In a strange, incomprehensible state of fatigue, Terry rolled up on each side of the bed. He didn't want to get up, the morning was cold, the kind that would make you want to keep being arapped up beneath tour sheets and not care ehy the alarm clock says.

"I need to get up," he murmured softly into the plush pillow he was buried into, and before he knew it, another 20 minutes had passed. When he saw how ineffective his day was turning out to be, he suddenly shot his eyes open.

Once more telling himself, "I need to get up," he felt his bones this time absorbing the force of his words. He felt a childlike kind of power as the laziness started to fade away.

He was lying on the bed, looking lifeless, still planning his day when he noticed one of his gym gloves. He stared at it for a fairly lobg time and rolled his eyes awy