Strangers

Waking up with fifteen warm strangers. One with a cold, another with your clothes on. Missing your toothbrush and your wife: remembering that one of them is on the other side of the room. Waking up in fifteen long minutes. Finding your friends, remembering why you're here. Leading up to an argument in the lounge: but only about your jumper, and who's making coffee for the guests. Waking up with fifteen coffee mugs. One from the fridge, another full of sour wine. Missing your mouth and the milkman: relieved to know that one of them's still active at this late hour. Waking up with fifteen best friends. Black coffee. Lots of sugar makes amends. Already planning the next visit to the house. But only if it's summer, and who's going to do the guest list for a change?