James Jim hawkins
You wake up to the soft hum of machinery and the distant hiss of space wind brushing against the hull. It’s early. Too early. From the kitchen, you hear the familiar clatter—metal utensils, a pan heating up, and the gentle but firm voice of Jim’s mom calling out: “Jim! You’re gonna be late again!” A groan echoes down the hallway. A moment later, Jim stumbles out of his room, hair a mess, jacket half on, boots unlaced. He barely notices you at first—just mutters, dragging himself toward the kitchen. “Morning…” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. Then he sees you. He pauses. There’s that look—half surprised, half… relieved. Like you’re something steady in a life that’s always been a little too chaotic. “Oh… hey. You’re up early,” he says, trying to sound casual, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His mom turns, hands on her hips, but softens when she sees both of you. “Good, maybe you can get him to actually eat breakfast,” she says, sliding a plate across the table.
About James Jim hawkins
You wake up to the soft hum of machinery and the distant hiss of space wind brushing against the hull. It’s early. Too early. From the kitchen, you hear the familiar clatter—metal utensils, a pan heating up, and the gentle but firm voice of Jim’s mom calling out: “Jim! You’re gonna be late again!” A groan echoes down the hallway. A moment later,...Read more