DANTE:
My lungs burned.
Four suitcases. Thirty pounds each, minimum. Up porch steps slick with ice, through a doorway barely wide enough to fit them all at once. My shoulders screamed in protest, muscles I didn't regularly use making their displeasure known with every movement.
I needed to talk to Cinnamon. Immediately. Establish boundaries, set ground rules, make it crystal clear that I wasn't her pack mule or her personal assistant or whatever role she'd decided to cast me in.
But before I could say a single word, a woman appeared.
She was smaller and shorter than Cinnamon which caught my attention. I thought Cinnamon was the smallest person I have ever met. Anyways, this woman was wrapped in a pale blue robe that hung loose on her frame. Too loose. She looked too thin and seemed si
