She had barely talked. Neither did I but, what was I supposed to say? I had only the watered down version of the story to tell her. Don't blame my business for being so heavily guarded... unwillingly.
It was the next morning, the intruding impale of the sun shining through the open window. The curtain was back open. My first instinct was to forget about the pounding pain in my lower back from sleeping on the sofa and to shut it.
"Good mornin' to you, too. Or should I say..."
Thea trails off to check the time on her phone. She didn't look like a 'Thea' to me. A name like that contradicted how she acted entirely — harsh sounding on the lips but every action that precedes is soft and calculated.
"...afternoon. 'Cah it's four in the afternoon," she reiterates just to make sure that it's gotten in my head that I'm up way too late for her liking.
