Jess woke up fifteen minutes earlier the next day. She tried to get through her morning routine extra quickly, jumping out of bed as soon as the alarm went off—even though her eyes stung with grogginess—and downing her breakfast so fast it gave her hiccups. The coffee she chugged down was freshly brewed—too hot, really, since it burned her tongue—but, with all the extra speed, it gave her an extra twenty-five minutes in the house to follow her ‘selfishness’.
It was still dark when she turned on the lamp by her bedside, ballpoint pen in hand, and began to scratch away in a battered notebook. She took inspiration from the drawings she’d already seen—the sun representing Juliet, the mirror images of Frankenstein and his monster—and created her own story around them. By the time she glanced a
