Continental Breakfast

The initial idea was to avoid the continental breakfast all together. However, after a night of virtually no sleep on a bed that was harder than concrete, it was hard to turn down at least a cup of coffee. We hiked up the steep hill to the main building in a zombie - like state. There were four red eyes among us, and multiple bags and circles. The breakfast was located in a turret of Victorian house. Oddly, more care went into this one room all the rest of motel. There was a long table with a while table cloth. It had an a whole assortment of breakfast items. At the front ( towards the entrance) was fruit. Cantaloupe, pineapples, blueberries, strawberries, kiwi, mangoes, cherries,  and they were all fresh. Olivia and I craned our necks to find the coffee pot. It was all the way at the opposite end. "That's strange, you'd think the coffee would be at the front." Olivia says.  She starts to walk away. I pick up a plate. "I'll be right with you. Just gonna get some fruit." Olivia shrugs. "I suppose the fruit is ok." I fill my plate with every single fruit available. Then I take a seat by the window with Olivia. We are the only ones in the room, and we enjoy the peace and quiet of the morning. Until two large ladybugs come bumbling in. They look like out of towners as well. The husband wears a fishing hat, and the wife wears big, round sunglasses, even though they are indoors. I watch them grabbing items off the buffet line, and then almost instinctively the husband turns to see me looking at him. At that moment I cross my fingers and silently pray that they don't sit by us.