You freeze with one foot still near the door, your eyes locked on the scars laced across Sofia’s skin like a map of warnings. The yellow hotel light makes every line look older and newer at the same time. You feel the cash in your pocket turn from “help” into “evidence.”
Then the sound in the hallway comes again.
A slow shuffle, careful, like someone doesn’t want the floorboards to speak. The doorknob doesn’t turn, not yet. Whoever it is, they’re listening first.
Read more