She should've been in severe discomfort. How did she manage to walk out of here?
Or maybe I'm wrong. I'm already striding toward the bathroom as the desperate hope strikes me, but she's not inside. There's evidence of someone having taken a shower, though.
I stumble back to the bedroom and sink heavily onto the bed, running my hands over my face.
As my eyes drift to the side table, I see an odd sight.
There's a hundred-dollar bill folded neatly and tucked under the lamp. Blinking, I take it out to make sure I'm not seeing things. It really is a hundred-dollar bill. My eyes close and incredulous laughter splutters out of me.
She left me money?
I don't know whether to be insulted or amused over the fact that she left me money like I’m some sort of hooker or that she thought I was only
