"You're awake, and I see that you're enjoying your food," I observed as the beautiful woman, Jessica, sat up across the bed with a plate of rice and chicken. She had specifically asked for that dish despite my chef's attempts to make her something different.
"Thank you for the food," she said with a genuine smile. I couldn't help but notice how innocent, how oblivious she seemed to the dangers and injustices of this world. Who was I kidding? I was those dangers. I was those injustices.
I smiled at her, not knowing what to say. Was I just going to say 'you're welcome'? Wasn't I the very reason she hadn't eaten for three consecutive days? Actually, being proud of that would be nothing but hypocrisy. I was a mafia king, for crying out loud. Why was I so concerned about this random woman?
