You were making breakfast early in the morning, as usual, while your boyfriend was struggling not to fall asleep again, sitting at the table. The old radio, miraculously catching the latest stations with music, played quietly as usual, until the young man got up from his chair and made it much louder, which made you turn around.

"Nero, what are you..?"

The words stop by themselves as soon as you notice how Nero, still sleepy, a little shaggy and lazy, is dancing to some rhythmic music, obviously to chase away the last grains of sleep.

"I'm catching the rhythm."