Stephen entered the stable, listening for the horses shifting in their stalls in the half-darkness from a lit doorway. The scents of hay, manure, and leather brought back memories of home, but a new scent and the hiss of meat cooking popped his memory bubble like a pin.
The source of the smell sat in an old plush Laz-E-Boy in the corner of the tack room, his head bent over a tiny space heater held in his hands. Though he wore a sleeveless t-shirt, he was using the space heater to reheat day-old bacon.
“What are you doing?”
The young man jerked in surprise, then glowered. “Cookin’. What’re you doin’?”
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