Bianca
It’s almost nine when I wake up, and I find it rather surprising that I slept like a log for eight hours in a stranger’s home. When I went to bed the previous night, I was out the moment my head hit the pillow. Might be some bizarre aftereffect of being shot at.
After dropping by the bathroom to take care of my screaming bladder, and to brush my teeth, I head to the kitchen. On the counter next to the coffee machine, I find my note, one corner of it sitting under a bag of unopened coffee beans. Next to each of my notes, there are comments in neat handwriting.
Thank you.
I don’t mind.
Yes.
I called my housekeeper and told her to buy something for you to wear tomorrow until we get your stuff. She will leave it on the counter.
Far right cupboard, the top shelf. But you can
