Salvatore
I lean my shoulder on the bookshelf and regard Milene. I’ve been doing so quite a lot in the last week. She is sprawled on the couch, watching another cooking show. My gaze travels along her body and stops at her legs which are dangling over the armrest. A pair of extremely ugly sandals with multicolored sequins adorn her ridiculously small feet. The cat is stretched out next to Milene, with its head turned toward the TV. Something is seriously wrong with that animal.
Before I moved Milene in here, I would go to the office early in the morning and usually return to the penthouse late in the evening. But now, I keep finding some idiotic reasons to leave the office and drop by my place at least twice a day, just to get a glimpse of her. Milene tries her best to ignore my presence
