Sleeping in a twenty-dollar bed reminded me of what Sebastien always said: that without him, I was nothing more than a speck of dust in the wind. He was right, but at least dust is free.The sheets smelled of cheap bleach and something else I didn’t want to identify. Dampness, perhaps. Or a cigarette from decades ago. The pillow was as thin as an envelope, and the cover had a tiny tear through which the yellowed foam peeked out.“This isn’t silk, Grace,” I said aloud.My voice sounded strange in that room. Too clean for those peeling walls.I sat up, feeling nauseous. This time it wasn’t because of the motel. It was the other kind. The kind from the pregnancy. I put my hand to my mouth and held back the retching with sheer willpower.“Not now,” I told my stomach. “Give me five minutes.”The room had a smudged mirror next to the door. I caught a glimpse of myself. Greasy hair, grape-colored dark circles under my eyes, the wrinkled T-shirt I’d bought at a gas station the day before. Not
Last Updated : 2026-04-27 Read more