Saturday was Zaire's only reprieve from everything. It was the day his alarm didn't sound, his uniforms remained undisturbed, and his phone stayed face-down on the bedside table until he was ready to rejoin the living world.

And, usually, it was his day to hang out with his friends, because he felt obligated to keep everyone together and on a routine. They'd hang out in a parking lot or go to Jarah's place, because he had his own spacious bachelor pad in his parents' basement. Today, however, he didn't want to leave his apartment.

His arm hung off the side of the bed, eyes glazed over as they stared into the waning dark of his bedroom. The sun was beginning to peek through the gaps in the blackout curtains, rising over the neighboring building that kept his unit dark late into the morning. He had to get up, eventually, to go to the bathroom, to eat, to smoke. But...

He rolled over, tucking the blanket tight against his body as he closed his eyes a while longer. That urge to smoke was starting to bubble up with a vengeance, his body realizing he was two hours late for his usual breakfast cigarette. His first smoke of Saturday morning was always a pain in the ass, though. His neighbor was always out with her yappy little dog, and she always had a comment, and she was never courteous about blowing her sour watermelon vape breath down wind to his patio.

He let out a groan and sat up, scratching at his hairline under his durag. There was no point in staying in bed. He still had things to do on his day off, starting with that cigarette.