Torin's POV
I sat on the edge of the mattress, my back turned toward the woman still resting beneath the tangled sheets.
She was fast asleep, or perhaps just pretending to avoid the awkward silence between us.
Her bare shoulder peeked out from the thin fabric, her long dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.
I did not know her name. I did not care to ask for it either.
That was the entire point of coming to a dim place like this.
I ran my fingers through my brown hair, pushing the messy strands back from my forehead.
The movement was slow and heavy, full of a deep exhaustion that sleep could no longer fix.
My reflection in the cracked mirror across the room looked like a stranger.
I stared at the hollow eyes and the stubbled jaw, barely recognizing the face of a man who had spent weeks running from his own grief.
I stood up from the mattress, my bare feet pressing against the cold wooden floorboards.
