Happiness is Maple Syrup Flavoured

He walked over to the table, the grin on his face wider than the banana Cordelia was slicing for the pancakes. He pulled back a chair, sat down, and returned a smile from her that warmed him more than the coffee, black and strong as it was.

Angel leaned over and casually flipped more calories onto his plate than he’d had in a single meal for several weeks and each bite filled more than his empty stomach.

He was with friends. Invited. Wanted. Useful.

That was new.

He reached for the butter and spilled juice over the table. That wasn’t.

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