Eden rolled herself over, putting her back to the new and exciting sounds coming from just a few beds over. Framed at the hips by a black down comforter, far too big for the bed she slept on, Eden carefully pulled the single, thin, flat sheet up to her neck, perhaps expecting to somehow block out the cold winter air with a few micrometers of cotton.
The redhead, somehow reminiscent of a ferret, elongated and burrowed into the top bunk, quickly got over the existential need for five more minutes of sleep and shot out of the bed like a bullet. She whipped the sheet and comforter out of the way with a hand and foot, a coordinated motion no doubt the result of years of habit; rolling completely off the side of the bed and landing in a stumble and crouch on the old carpet, Eden glanced slyly around the room, making sure nobody saw the fumble.
"What happened."
Her voice was pretty normal, all things considered, young and dictional and with a hint of nasality. The only thing to stand out was the flat, unaffected delivery of her words. She wasn't angry, or uninterested, just wholly unaware that her part in the world was but one of billions.
She spoke again in quick succession, with the same bleak and unnerving tone.
"Who broke the window."
Her questions, although very clearly diagnostic, were spoken more like orders. Eden raised herself from the floor and marched stiffly around her bunk bed, like a driver doing a walkaround, then proceeding to fall to the ground by the door, crosslegged and anticipatory.
Eden's standard morning ritual, rocking to and fro ever so slightly, waiting to be the last one out.