The very moment I moved, she almost jumped out of the bed.
- Morning. I'm making breakfast.
She needed a few seconds to calm down. One peak told me she was embarrassed.
- Good morning - she eventually spoke.
I pulled out a pan and cracked some eggs. I wished I had some beacon, but I didn't, so just the eggs had to do.
- I... I should go - she squeezed out.
- First, you should eat breakfast. Who knows when you will be able to eat something on the run.
I heard her standing from the couch, then she made few steps closer to me.
- You don't care, do you? Somebody chased by the gangsters comes to you, and you don't feel even a bit of compassion.
I turned from the pan to face her.
- What about you? Do you care about the guy whose home you invaded, and pulled into your mess? Did you even once thought about me? About my story? What makes you think it's not worse than yours?
