Jimmie’s pov
The first thing I registered was the pain.
Not the emotional kind, not yet. The physical. A heavy, slamming, head-splitting type of pain that made me grunt as I cracked one eye open. Migraine. Loud. Ugly. Punishing.
The second thing I registered for? The noise.
The streets outside my apartment were alive with drums pounding, voices chanting, whistles, and vuvuzelas blaring from every direction. Astria was celebrating. Of course they were. Republic Day.
I groaned into the pillow, turning my head away from the brightness that leaked through the blinds. The sound wasn’t even coming from my block alone. The entire city was on fire with joy. From my second-story apartment, I could hear people dancing in the alleyway, children running and laughing, someone banging pots together
