Daisy Ginger slowly withdrew her gaze, turned her body, and calmly walked towards the direction of the elevator not far away.
Edward Stephens turned his head, looking at Daisy Ginger's back.
Today she wore a thin black dress with a round neck, sharply tailored, straightening her silhouette.
Watching Daisy Ginger enter the elevator, the man looked away, took a puff of his cigarette, his brow slightly furrowed, his injured fingers clenched for a moment, and unfrozen blood droplets dripped down from the reopening wound on the back of his hand.
He felt somewhat irritable, the dry weather of winter making him feel a certain discomfort.
*
Daisy Ginger got into the car, somewhat tired, resting her arm on the steering wheel, burying her head in her forearm, taking a deep breath.
Feeling hardly able to breathe.
Her heart was tense, as if blocked by a huge stone.
Thoughts scattered.
Regret, anger, frustration, discard, and profound exhaustion seeping from her bones.
