Michael was not hit by any stale air, or bad smell. He lowered his head, but he didn't find any garbage heap like he had been expecting. He had thought he would find remnants of takeaways by the door, the size of the garbage heap only confirming what he had been expecting to find.
Michael schooled his expression. He went inside, and he found the owner of the place blankly facing the TV, curled up on the sofa with a blanket covering her while she rested her chin on her forearms, and her forearms on her raised knees.
Despite that, she didn't seem to focus on what was being broadcasted, the noise from the TV itself kept low, as if just to prevent silence from dominating the apartment. She didn't pay attention to him either.
Seeing the clean place, Michael finally confirmed that he had been wrong. But the state of Cynthia let him know that only her three friends could have been here to take care of the place, as even the sink was empty of any dirty dish.
