The telephone on the bedside table rang, jolting her out of her reverie. Andrea had clearly instructed the front desk to withhold all calls. She didn’t want to be disturbed. Perhaps it would be the sweetest night to die.
It was early winter, and he had left for another country. The bleakness of winter could only gorge a deeper wound.
“I don’t like it when she comes as if she’s …”
“She feeds your lot” Ann said without looking up from the espresso station she was manning. Ann knew that the manager meant the girl who was at the store at precisely eleven in the morning, clockwork.
I don’t do one night stands. I am not a Sarong Party Girl.
Aku perhatikan dia tanpa berkata-kata. Aku malas bersuara.