Clara Grant found her room, luggage in tow, and swiped her key card to get in.
The room had two beds. A few articles of clothing were lying on one of them, and she knew that was Holly Summers' bed.
She casually tossed her suitcase aside and flopped directly onto the other bed.
She had been through too many sudden crises that day. Her nerves had been stretched taut the entire time, so she hadn't really noticed the exhaustion.
Now that it was all over, she felt as if every ounce of her strength had been drained away.
So tired. Utterly exhausted, body and soul.
Clara Grant planned to rest for a moment before heading downstairs to eat. She closed her eyes, trying to relax, but the day's events began to flash before them like a slideshow.
The traffic jam that almost made her late, the incense sticks inexplicably snapping while she was making her offering, her luggage being taken by mistake...
