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All the Comforts of Home

The hotel room I woke up in this morning looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Still half asleep, I snuggled up behind the naked boy that joined me in bed last night. The back of his neck smelled of sleep and fresh linen.

"If you want coffee or breakfast or anything, just dial room service and have it sent up," I whispered, gently rubbing his back.

I heard a muffled "okay" and I fell back asleep.

A little while later, I my brain registered the smell of coffee and something toasted.

"Room service couldn't make it, but here's an English Muffin and some coffee."

The voice rings a bell. Oh, it's Larry. I'm home. For a day or so.