Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The pre-drawn light filtered weakly through the blinds, painting sickly yellow stripes across Blake's eyelids. A muffled thump from the other side of the room jolted her awake. Cristina, a tangled mess of limbs on Blake's bed, stirred with a groan. Then came the unmistakable voice of Meredith, laced with a forced cheerfulness.
"Rise and shine! Time for your morning jog!"
Blake groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow. Jogging? At this ungodly hour? The woman was a tyrant. A disgruntled grunt escaped Cristina's lips, followed by the soft thud of a pillow being flung across the room.
The next few minutes were a blur of frantic scrambling. Cristina opted for a withering glare. Blake, on the other hand, resorted to childish pleas that fell on deaf ears. Finally, clad in workout clothes they hadn't intended to wear that day, the three interns found themselves blinking blearily at the Seattle skyline.
As they began their jog, a steady rhythm pounding against the pavement, frustration bubbled within Blake. They had a late start this morning. This was supposed to be her chance to catch up on sleep, maybe even do some laundry. But no, Meredith, in her infinite wisdom, had decided they all needed a healthy dose of endorphins. Endorphins, Blake scoffed silently, were the last thing she needed right now.
They rounded a corner, and Cristina muttered a string of colorful curses under her breath. "Oh, you're stupid, oh god..." she sputtered, her voice tinged with a healthy dose of morning malice. "You're a stupid, evil sadist, and I want to kill you."
Blake, struggling to keep pace, could only manage a breathless wheeze. "I'll help. Hey, go slower. I...can't breathe," she rasped, her lungs burning.
"Endorphins are good. Endorphins are mood elevators. This is supposed to make us feel better," Meredith chirped, circling them like a hyperactive sheepdog.
