DEAD & BREAKFAST

and your eyes slowly open. Blinking as they adjust to the sunlight, you watch the cream-colored lace curtains gently ebb and flow in the wind from the open window. Lying on your side, you stretch your arms out in front of you, akin to a cat, and graze them across the crisp, sun-drenched sheets of the quiet inn’s plush bed. After inhaling deeply and allowing your body to go limp on the exhale, your stomach announces itself with a grumble, realizing you smell food. A waft of sweetness and coffee catches your focus as you inhale again. You roll to your opposite side to see a silver breakfast platter is waiting for you on the café table. You kick and toss the sheets aside to sit up, inching yourself over to the edge of the large bed to get up and walk over. The platter is completed with a generous drizzle of ambery maple syrup atop thick and buttery golden waffles, a few slices of sweet oranges, and steam swirling off a cup of fresh coffee and cream. Your fingers wrap around the warm porcelain cup. You take a small sip. It has a drop of hazelnut cream, just how you like it. You close your eyes as you smile gently, content.

However, it doesn’t last: worry strikes as soon as the warmth of the coffee spreads across your abdomen. You never requested room service. Who did?