“I need to change,” I say as I cover the girl with a blanket. “I’ll get you something to wear, too. Is a T-shirt okay?”
I don’t know why I keep asking her questions when she never replies. After I have her tucked into bed, I cross the room and enter my walk-in closet. I change into dry pajama pants and put on another T-shirt, then I rummage around trying to find a smaller T-shirt. I know I have one that Kostya gave me a couple of years ago which was several sizes too small. He had it custom ordered with “Classy but Anal” printed on the front. i***t.
There’s a shuffling sound, and I look over my shoulder to find the girl standing in the doorway, with the blanket wrapped around her. She takes a step inside and looks at the shelf where I keep my T-shirts. There aren’t that many, maybe ten
