39
Amira lingered under the shower, a jet of hot water massaging her aching shoulders.
After changing into a white robe and slippers, she stepped out into the bedroom. She expected to see her pile of dirty clothes on the carpet by the bed.
They were gone.
Someone had taken them while she was in the bathroom. In their place, they'd left a set of white linen pyjamas, folded on the bed.
The bed itself had been made during her shower.
Made from the night before, where she’d slept for twelve hours straight. She'd woken up to a continental breakfast, left on a bedside table. The tray with leftover fruit, meat, bread and cheese was gone too. The curtains thrown open, letting the sunlight in.
Pyjamas seemed a deliberate choice, bearing in mind it was afternoon. After all, where would Amira
