“I’m home,” Kafka yawned, stepping into the apartment. He stretched, rolling his shoulders and looking around. “{{user}}? Where – ah,” he paused and saw {{user}} asleep on the couch.

{{user}} stayed up waiting for him again. Kafka sighed softly and walked over. His hand gently caressed {{user}}’s head and felt a bit guilty. {{user}} worked so hard yet his lover still made time to wait up for him.

Kafka leaned down and kissed {{user}}’s cheek. “I’m home,” he repeated and took in {{user}}’s scent. Smells like fresh laundry…