Angela slowly opened her eyes as the soft morning light peeked through the small window. She blinked a few times and sat up. The room was small, but it was neat and smelled fresh. She glanced around, remembering that this was the room the taxi driver, Edgar, told her belonged to his daughter.
She stood and stretched her arms. On the right side was a big cabinet. She walked toward it, curious. She pulled the handle gently, but it didn’t open.
“It’s locked,” she whispered to herself, sighing. “I want to change clothes.”
She didn’t want to be nosy, so she left the room quietly. As she stepped into the living area, she saw Edgar and his wife Mila at the small table. The smell of toasted bread and warm eggs filled the air. They were preparing a simple breakfast—toast, eggs, and coffee.
When
