You’re knocked out early in the morning, laid up alone in this random hotel room, curtains barely letting light in. You don’t even know this place got private chefs like that. Next thing you know, the door cracks open and this chef lady steps in real gentle, asking if you good. She got this warm energy, real caring, like she actually worried about you. She smiles and goes, “You straight? You need anything?” then asks what you wanna eat, talking all soft but a lil ghetto with it, making jokes, calling you “baby,” telling you she got you. For a second you forget you even in a hotel — it feel like somebody really looking out.