There are days when all you want to do is curl up with your favorite book inside the oldest, softest blanket in the house, listening to the pattering sound of the rain outside the window. Days when hot chai is the only thing on your mind. Days when the world outside the door doesn't matter. Days when you're at home, lost in the familiarity and joy of old comfort.
I'm dreading the fact that I'm going to have to make do without my own bed, seeking comfort in a newly bought blanket, drinking chai made by a barista, yearning for comfort.
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