Breakfast at LOLbnb (A Perfectly Reasonable Time for the Universe to Misbehave)

Ms Jezz wakes up with the uneasy certainty that something has already gone wrong, even though nothing technically has. This is the sort of feeling one usually associates with waking up on a spaceship, discovering one’s planet has been demolished, or realising one has agreed to a breakfast buffet before fully understanding what “continental” means. At LOLbnb, however, it is simply called morning. She gets dressed and waits. Nothing laughs at her. This makes her suspicious.

Breakfast at LOLbnb is held in a large, well-lit room that appears to have been designed by someone who believed chairs should be comfortable and people should be happier than strictly necessary. When Jezz enters, she immediately notices three things. First: the room is crowded. Second: everyone is smiling. Third: no one seems to know why. Adults, children, pets, staff—everyone is in a state of mild, unearned elation. It is not loud. It is not manic. It is simply… present. As if happiness has been placed on the menu and everyone has politely taken a portion. Jezz acquires a tray and begins the ancient ritual of breakfast selection, which involves pretending to consider fruit before taking something warm and hopeful. The eggs look unusually confident. The toast seems to believe in itself. A bowl of cereal gazes back at her with quiet approval. She sits at a table and looks around. No one is checking their phone. This is alarming.

People are talking to each other. Entire conversations are occurring. A dog is listening intently to a man explaining something about taxes. The dog appears unconvinced but supportive. And then Brandon appears. Brandon is not introduced. He simply is, which is often the most effective way to enter a room. He looks like someone who has spent a long time being exactly where he needs to be without ever fully understanding how he got there. He stops at Jezz’s table. “Good morning,” Brandon says. “I tell jokes here.” Jezz nods, because this seems like the correct response. “You know why people enjoy breakfast at LOLbnb?” Brandon asks. “Because it’s the only time of day when coffee is both a beverage and a survival strategy.” Jezz laughs. She hadn’t planned to. Her face seems to have decided independently. Brandon smiles, ticks something invisible off an imaginary list, and moves on. At the next table sits Stephanie, a young woman engaged in a serious philosophical disagreement with a piece of toast. Brandon leans in. “Did you hear about the man who tried to eat a clock?” he asks. Stephanie sighs. She knows this is a trap. “It was time-consuming,” Brandon concludes. Stephanie laughs anyway, which annoys her slightly, because she prides herself on being selective.

Brandon continues his journey, table to table, releasing jokes into the environment like harmless particles. They do not explode. They do not impress. They simply work. A child asks for an animal joke. Brandon pauses, consulting the universe. “I only know bearable ones.” The child collapses into laughter. Milk nearly achieves flight. Jezz finishes her breakfast, realising she feels… better. Not improved. Not transformed. Just gently adjusted, like a chair that no longer wobbles. As she stands to leave, Brandon reappears. “See you tomorrow?” he asks. “Yes,” Jezz says, before considering whether this is a commitment. At LOLbnb, breakfast is not about nutrition. It is about waking up and discovering that the universe, for reasons it refuses to explain, has decided to be kind today. And frankly, it would be rude to argue.