The next morning arrived with the usual obnoxious beeping from the alarm clock and an unusually mossy feeling in Glen’s mouth. He stuck out his tongue and yawned. The smell and taste of coffee in the air sharpened his mind enough to guide him out of bed. Smacking the ‘off’ button on the alarm, Glen rolled over and eased both his feet to the floor. He pulled up his shirt to scratch at his stomach. His torso was covered in faint red lines from where he had lain on the wrinkles in his clothes from the previous night. He staggered into the kitchen. “G’morning,” he mumbled before yawning again.
“Morning, babe.” Aiden set a mug of coffee on the counter. “That one’s yours. I’m about to pour myself a second cup, unless you think you’ll want more, in which case I’ll take less.”
Glen shrugged. “Do
