With her eyes closed, the nonexistent woman heard the clicks, and her heart sped up involuntarily.
One.
Two.
Three.
And then the electronic beep of the last lock, releasing the door by using a password.
She couldn't help, like a dog in the Pavlov Experiment, feeling anxious in anticipation of the events that had been repeated for so long.
It was stronger than her, and she sat on the bed. The nonexistent woman had already gotten up earlier, done some stretching exercises, and walked a little on the treadmill. But she had gone to bed again; in the past few days, she hadn't felt well. Her foreboding feeling took away her sleep and hunger.
She straightened her hair with her fingers, as did the pink plush sweatshirt she wore, with a university print. The woman would never again be seen as dirty or decomposed. She would rather maintain a dignified, if not entirely pleasant, appearance.
