With a furrowed brow, Laurie pressed down on the mattress with both hands, and the springs within the old bed creaked out a wailing dismay. "My lower back," she complained softly, ".. is not getting along with this bed." Darkness had descended upon their hotel room, and the window was left partly open - the sound of an acoustic guitar wafting through the air from somewhere further down the streets. "Brayden, honey? Do you think I could bother you for a massage before bedtime?"
Under the luminescent light of his phone screen, the young man did his best to appear nonchalant about the idea, though the slightest hint of excitement shone through in his eyes. "Sure mom, no problemo. But we don't have any massage oil, do we?"
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