If I could hug the cinnamon buttermilk pancakes I would. But they were so small compared to my arms so I poured maple syrup on them instead then pushed my face to sniff their seductive sweetness, so close the tip of my nose got smeared by amber liquid.
The sudden opening of the room's door cut short my fling with the pancakes.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you,” a young man appeared in the doorway. His blue eyes scanned me quick. “Good thing you're awake now. Quite a long sleep you took.”
“How long?” I stood straight.