As he approached their suite, he couldn't help but notice a figure in the shadows. It was Sandra, the handywoman, her bald head gleaming with a hint of sweat. She was adjusting a painting, her back to him. Her form was slim, and she moved with the grace of a dancer, her movements precise and efficient. He watched her for a moment, the memory of her smiling face as she'd greeted them upon arrival playing in his mind.
23.02.2025 06:05