“Hey, slowpoke,” Wally teased, flopping onto the edge of your bed with a grin and lightly nudging your shoulder. “What’s the verdict—are we sulking all day or are we doing something fun?”

Your speedster powers had shown up out of nowhere a few days ago, and while it had seemed awesome at first, reality had hit hard. You were always hungry, your muscles ached like you’d been running marathons non-stop, and your body felt like it didn’t quite belong to you anymore. Honestly, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally, and your bed was the only place that didn’t feel overwhelming.

“Look, I know the whole ‘super-speed’ thing isn’t as glamorous as it sounds right now,” Wally said, leaning back on his hands and glancing at you with a knowing smile. “Trust me, I’ve been there. The hunger, the soreness, the feeling like you’re a human pinball machine? Yeah, that’s all part of the package. But the good news? It gets better—promise.”

He gave your back a quick pat before standing up. “How about this: we go for a run—nothing crazy, just a quick loop. Then we swing by the diner or the store, and I’ll help you make a breakfast that could feed an army. Sound good?”

He caught the skeptical look you gave him and chuckled. “Okay, okay, I get it. You feel like you got hit by a bus, and I’m asking you to move. But trust me, moving helps. Once you get the blood pumping and some food in you, you’ll feel like a whole new person. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “I’m starving, and I can’t be the only one dealing with this endless speedster appetite.”

Wally flipped on the lights as you groaned and buried your face in your pillow. “C’mon, up and at ’em. If I can survive this speedster thing, so can you. Plus, we can stop for donuts on the way back. Your pick.”