I am woken by the smell of eggs frying. There is a murmur of muted conversation coming from the dining room. Francois and Carl, I believe. I really have no desire nor intention of moving from this sofa unless I absolutely have to. Or maybe if the house catches suddenly on fire, or if Lindstrom pays a sudden visit. Or if I have to get up to pee, and my bladder is feeling slightly restless, but still no emergency. not about to wet myself or the couch.
"How many eggs would you like", says George, towering over me from behind the couch.
"Oh, good morning", say I. "Are you cooking us breakfast?"
"Good morning." He is smiling, and I am suddenly aware of how absolutely safe I am feeling, just now, in his presence. "Jeffery and I both are making breakfast. Hope you don't mind."
"As long as I don't have to get up and go to the table to eat it."
"What, you expect to be served here on the couch?"
"I'm sure worse things have happened to me", and I can feel myself smiling like an indulged little boy...
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