But now that it was morning, he was wondering if he really knew her well.
He suddenly felt a tug at his chest as he touched his feet to the ground and rose from the table. He took a step and he was standing in front of her door.
Without hesitation, he turned the doorknob.
She was still there.
Laying on the bed with her back turned to him, a small wretched blanket covering half of her lower-body to half her upper-body. Now that he was seeing it in daylight, her hair had dulled.
It wasn't shining as bright as he remembered. He wondered why.
He wanted to take a step in but then he withdrew that action and closed the door.
"A small bowl of water and a small cloth. Thank you Mileka." He said and walked past her. "Although I doubt she would accept it." He suddenly pauses in front of the door that leads outside. "She can be quite stubborn and proud, you see." Were the last things he said before walking out the door.
…
