Feuilly is a morning person by habit. Who knows whether he would have been, had life not trained him to wake early, ready for work, but by now it's ingrained. He's generally out of bed by six, and in good-enough spirits about it.
At 4:30 in the morning, his ceiling starts shouting at him about LLAMALLAMALLAMALLAMALLAMAWHATTHEFUCKISTHIS.
By 4:35 he has discovered that the noisemaker over the bed was enclosed with more glittery pink and silver flecks than ought by the laws of nature to be able to fit in an envelope.
By 4:45 he has tracked glitter throughout his room, and discovered that he has to stack three dictionaries on his chair so that he can stand and reach in among the ceiling tiles.
By 5:00 his room is silent.
By 6:30, Feuilly is washed and dressed and finishing up his coffee as usual, engaged in what Hugo would call brooding with the profound divination of the man of the people, over what we now call the idea of the nationality. He's also plotting cold, merciless, beautiful revenge.
This glitter will take months to get out of the carpet. And his hair.
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Date: 2015-05-24 08:10 pm (UTC)From:At 4:30 in the morning, his ceiling starts shouting at him about LLAMALLAMALLAMALLAMALLAMAWHATTHEFUCKISTHIS.
By 4:35 he has discovered that the noisemaker over the bed was enclosed with more glittery pink and silver flecks than ought by the laws of nature to be able to fit in an envelope.
By 4:45 he has tracked glitter throughout his room, and discovered that he has to stack three dictionaries on his chair so that he can stand and reach in among the ceiling tiles.
By 5:00 his room is silent.
By 6:30, Feuilly is washed and dressed and finishing up his coffee as usual, engaged in what Hugo would call brooding with the profound divination of the man of the people, over what we now call the idea of the nationality. He's also plotting cold, merciless, beautiful revenge.
This glitter will take months to get out of the carpet. And his hair.