I wait for a few seconds and follow her, entering the bathroom with great care.
I pick up her clothes, and among them is her tiny thong. If that string could even be called underwear, too bad the shower stall is all frosted glass.
I need to control myself; I have to find out if she is really married.
I go to the laundry room and put her clothes in the dryer.
I return to the kitchen and start cleaning up the mess left behind. As soon as I finish, I turn my attention back to the pasta. I'm lost in my thoughts, remembering the times when I had my mother around—the best phase of my life.
When I was 20 years old, I fell madly in love with Ketlin. When I saw her for the first time, that woman with hazel-brown eyes, long black hair, and that smile—my God! What an amazing woman she was.
I sn
