By the time I returned to the hotel, the first rays of sunlight were already painting the morning sky in a myriad hues of orange and red.
I opened the door to my room, expecting some peace and quiet… but nearly had a heart attack instead.
Michael was sitting in a chair by the window inside my room, his arms crossed like he'd been waiting for hours.
On my bed, Alexia was lying on her stomach, scribbling something on a piece of paper and kicking her legs in the air like a bored child.
"Where were you?" Michael asked without any preamble, like he was interrogating a criminal. His tone was as flat as a frozen pond.
I stared at them for a moment, my brain scrambling to make sense of the scene. "What the hell are you two doing in my room? And how did you get in? I'm sure I locked the door behind me!"
Michael shrugged. "I've lived on the street. Picking locks is something I learned in my first week."
