I woke up with a headache. It's at Mikhail's place, in his room. I remember my last conversation with him. I was still wearing my casual clothes yesterday—my casual jeans and blouse.
What time is it? I looked at my cell phone lying on the table. Five in the morning. NY at 10 pm.
I slept almost 12 hours. This isn't very comfortable.
I heard a little noise outside. Coffee machine sound? Was Mikhail up this early? I went out of the room and saw him.
There's someone in the kitchen. My apartment is spacious. This is a condo. In the middle, a large glass views the dark morning sky, and the lights are still on.
The smell of bread and eggs wafted through the air as the coffee machine beeped. I looked into the kitchen.
He's there in a white singlet. And gray sweatpants, even he seems to be clean-shaven. I was briefly mesmerized by his well-trained physique, but of course, his arms were still wrapped in
"Cara! Damn you surprised me."
