English muffin

Snow out there. The sound of the furnace in the basement. The tinkling of chimes. 

The smell of coffee would be the perfect compliment. Along with the smell of bacon. And of maple.

I imagine a woman, warm in her pajamas, quietly close to me. Happy.

It's then that it starts to hurt.

It's been a while since I've eaten an English muffin hot from the toaster spread across with Irish butter. 

Let's just dream about that.