This Machine Runs on Your Time by Nicholas Rys

Sydney Francis woke up at noon. I know this because I am watching her. I’m always watching her. That’s why I see her all the time. I’m kind of like Santa Claus or God or one of those people who always sees everything except I only see everything about Sydney Francis.

Before she woke up she was sleeping one of her two usual ways; on her back with her mouth half open and her leg bent at the knee forming a good impression of a forty five-degree angle. The other way is on her side and she makes this pouty face and pushes her adorable ass out and it’s almost too cute for words. But it’s that first way that really blows my mind.