India
There are three things in life that truly annoy me. The first is having a natural sleep cycle that wakes me up every day at 5:00 a.m. without exception, including weekends. The second is the fact that this rule doesn't apply to everyone: seeing Montana, my roommate, show up in the kitchen for breakfast at 8:00 a.m. every day, refreshed and ready to start the day when I've already been up for three hours always makes me groan. But my third and final dislike is by far the worst: I hate my boss.
My arrogant, demanding and cold boss.
You know those people who repeatedly press the button to close the elevator door when they see someone approaching because they want to avoid human contact?
Well, that's my boss. But worse.
It's a little after five in the morning. I've been awake for several minutes and still haven't made a move to get out of bed. All I can think about is spending the day in the presence of that pretentious pretty boy, William Walker. He's made my life hell since I started working as his assistant a year ago. Now I wake up every morning at this infamous hour and try to think of a way to get out of going to work without getting fired.
Call in sick? Paint a bruise on my forehead and say I fell? Say my dog not only ate my homework, but me too? Harsh. But I don't have a dog. Nor am I at school anymore. And William Walker is worse than any teacher I've ever had to deal with. Worse than any person I've ever had to deal with. Only Voldemort could top him.
Minutes pass. I sigh and get out of bed, putting on my usual suit and pants, my work uniform at Walker.

Industries. Besides, I'm not exactly trying to impress my boss with my clothes. I want to impress him with my work ethic... or at least I used to. Until I realized he wasn't even paying attention.
After getting dressed, washing my face, and combing my hair, I head to the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker. The kitchen is the coziest part of the apartment because Montana, my roommate, loves to cook. I glance wistfully toward her bedroom door, wishing she were already awake and making something delicious.
Knowing she won't be up for a few more hours, I grab my coffee and sit on the kitchen stool at my computer. I've spent countless mornings in this kitchen at the computer sipping coffee, absorbed in writing my novel. Waking up this early is both a curse and a blessing. It may be a lonely hour, but it's the perfect time to write. I'm swept away by my story almost instantly. The creative juices are flowing freely this morning. My fingers have a life of their own, flying across the keyboard at warp speed. Before I know it, I have 500 new words on the screen.
I don't know if what I've written is any good, and the perfectionist in me feels the urge to go back and correct mistakes, but I learned long ago to ignore those nagging voices in my head. If I ever want to finish my novel, I know I must let the words flow. I can review them later and make everything perfect. It's part of what I love about the process. I find it easy to forget about work and my nightmare of a boss when I'm writing. But the moment I hear Montana's alarm clock go off, I know my time of peace is over. I made good progress this morning, but I'm dying to be able to continue. The last thing I need is a reminder that I'm seeing William Walker today.
"Good morning, gorgeous," Montana greets me, sauntering into the kitchen and heading straight to the fridge to pull out the ingredients for her morning smoothie. Her black hair is tied back in an impeccable ponytail and her face is fresh, her golden skin flawless and devoid of makeup.