Yanire awoke one morning to see a foggy sky overhead. She went to sit up in the bed when nausea struck her and she felt the food from the night before bubble up her throat. The woman quickly threw the covers from her body and rushed to the toilet. This was hardly the first morning he'd felt sick to her stomach but she couldn't figure why- safe from the possibility that Martien was a terrible cook.
Since the complete mess and chaos of their last interaction, Martien had not spoken to her. Nor had he looked at her in the eyes, or even stepped more than three steps into the room. Yanire had no objection at all and she had returned his favors in full. She had stopped hoping that he would leave the door unlocked. Stopped hoping that he would suffer a heart attack and die on the occasions he entered the room and propped the door open.
